The Shadow Of You
by purehalo
Summary: Set after Faith. The boys find themselves investigating a series of strange disappearances and while protecting a young woman Dean becomes a marked man.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : Not mine, although the cheque is in the mail

Set after Faith.

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Chapter One

She could see the light in front of her, bright, shining, hope. Light could signify so much to those whose life was bathed in darkness. She tried to run faster but the faster her feet moved the slower the ground passed.

Her outstretched arms found nothing but air to hold, air and hope became the same, trying to breathe in both she started to choke. This was not a game anymore, this was no longer a dream from which she would wake any second. They had seen to that.

Her screams would never be heard.

Would her blood ever be found?

Would her body ever be buried?

Would she even be remembered?

A strange feeling of acceptance flowed through her body, her feet began to move as slow as the ground beneath her, her breath caught up with her heart and she began to feel tired and resigned. She was going to die, even if she escaped this time, they would come after her again and again until she could bear it no more and her mind and soul imploded into one another.

She stopped running. Her nightgown stuck to her with sweat, becoming one with her skin. She felt a breeze from behind and swung around, everything around her seemed to be hiding, the shadows hung back like cats preparing to pounce. She could hear a child crying far, far away, but it was no child. It was them. They was mocking her own cries in the darkness, they were ready for her now, their fun was had.

She closed her eyes as her body turned inside out and then was sucked in on itself like an explosion underwater, except without the evidence of anything having taken place.

The childlike voice stopped crying and began to laugh as the stranger walked from the alley. He paused to look out at the street ahead, people passing in a hurry. Night is not a good time to be out alone he thought, a smile crossed his face and he licked his lips, a tear rolled down his cheek and with one finger he gently wiped his face, his finger came away black. He wiped the rest of the blackness away with a tissue and turned onto the street.

Revenge was to be had, now he needed to find a new player in his game. She needed the game as much as he did. He couldn't stop, she wouldn't allow him. As he walked down the street he smiled at all who walked passed him.

Looking for the next one to make his own.

Dawn was always a favourite time for Sam, he sat outside the motel, feet in the gutter as he watched the sky turn from black to deep purple, purple to red, red to a brightness that he had to shield from his eyes. This was his routine, his alone, to watch as the night sky was burned into memory by the coming of the new day. A new hope. The colours bathed across the growing blue of the sky, the red began to recede as if the sun was draining into the distant sea somewhere deep in the horizon.

Sam sat and soaked up the experience, allowed his deep breath's to reach his soul, he closed his eyes and sighed as the warmth found it's way the millions of miles from the sun, through space, past planets, penetrating the atmosphere and roaming past clouds and mountains, sea's and valleys, to his small place by the curb.

Every morning he'd awaken at 5am, had done since Jess had died, and every morning he'd find himself outside. What had begun as a retreat from painful dreams and memories had become something which allowed his mind to wonder, to remember, to open up and not fall apart. It had taken time, but there was something soothing about his routine that had helped to heal the gaping wound which had threatened infection, threatened to eat him alive. Through this ritual and Dean's patience he had come to a point where remembering didn't hurt.

As much.

From the open door of the motel Sam heard his brother stirring, after a long drive they'd arrived here in Minnesota to investigate a string of disappearances, apparently linked to several reported stalkings. The news article had simply stated that twelve people, seven women and five men, had all disappeared at some point during the past year. All had complained to friends, co-workers, one to the police, that they were being watched, being stalked. Yet without hard evidence or a suspect to question the police could do little.

Sam hoped he and Dean could do more.

"Sammy?"

"Out here"

"Close the friggin door man, it's freezing"

And there endeth the watching of sunrise.

"Sorry man"

Sam smirked as Dean uncurled himself from the blankets and sat up, his hair stood up at bizarre angles and his eyes squinted as he tried to chase the sleep from his body.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 6"

Dean scratched his head and yawned hard enough to crack his jaw. He watched Sam move over to the desk, watched him switch on the laptop and begin the arduous task of researching, arduous, unless you were a geek brother.

"You get any coffee?"

"No, not yet man"

"Sam, if you're gonna insist on getting up this early the least you can do is get me coffee"

"I thought we'd grab some breakfast at the diner across the street before we looked into this thing"

"Oh you did?"

Sam smirked as Dean's stomach gave an appreciative grumble. Dean rubbed his pet absently and headed for the bathroom.

"So twelve people go missing, no explanation and the police say they're unrelated"

"Dude say it, don't spray it!"

Sam wiped his brothers eggs off of his shirt dramatically as Dean raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth for Sam's viewing pleasure.

"That's gross"

"Didn't make ya look Sammy"

"Anyway, twelve missing, the police I'm guessing don't want to panic anyone so are saying they're unrelated"

"But.."

"But I called , spoke to Officer Watkins who told me that he'd be glad for the FBI to get involved as they think it's a serial abductor"

"Please let me be Mulder"

"No man, you were Mulder last time, and anyway, from the looks on the guys faces last time those names aren't gonna work anymore"

"You're just pissed that you had to be Scully"

Office Billy Watkins sat at his desk appraising the two FBI agents across from him of the situation. It had been a hell of a month for him, not only had Reg, his trusty German Shepherd, died after running out into the road, but he'd had a stack of work to do thanks to these people vanishing, plus Martha wanted more money per month, the lawyers were loving that one, not only did they help her get custody of Jake but now they wanted him to pay almost double per month to help support him.

Bullshit.

Martha had a new man on the scene, and from what Billy had heard the guy had no job, didn't want a job, and pretty much just moved from one relationship to another depending on how much money he could get out of it. But would Martha listen? No she would not, instead she was going to make a fool out of herself while she bled Billy dry to support her deadbeat new lover.

Well, he'd see who'd have the last laugh in that one, if he didn't go bankrupt first.

Billy placed the crime scene photo's across the table, all showed blood trails leading to the living rooms from the bedrooms, leading out the front doors and ending in the middle of the street. The blood trails showed droplets, evenly spaced and no evidence of pooling. Whatever took the people from the street did it quickly.

FBI Special Agent Picard leaned forward and studied the photo of the blood path in the street. He turned the picture around, trying to discern a pattern. There was none.

"Anything else Officer?"

"Well, we think this guy must have been watching these people before breaking in. We're guessing it's gotta be two guys, one breaking in and grabbing the victim, the other waiting in the street. Although none of the neighbours remember seeing a car"

"You have leads? Any at all?"

"All I can tell ya is that whoever this guy, or guys are, they know what they are doing, they're in and out of the bedrooms in no time, although the blood trail seems to suggest that the victims walked outside, we have no evidence of any other footprints in the front gardens of the houses other than that of the victims"

"What about the back gardens?"

"We haven't checked that yet"

"Don't you think you ought to get a move on"

Officer Watkins sat up straighter and leaned forward slightly, ready to defend himself against the accusation being implied.

Special Agent Riker kicked Agent Picard under the desk as he decided now was as good a time as any to take over this conversation.

"Sir, do you have any thoughts on this, other than what you've told us?"

Dean watched as Sam used his puppy dog eyes, Officer Watkins, although appearing to be a gruff old war horse, softened considerably and sighed before sitting back in his chair. He deliberately ignored Dean.

"Listen son, we don't even know if this guy was in the houses. To be honest the only evidence we have is one broken window. There's no sign inside of an intruder, family members have checked and say nothing obvious is missing, there was no sign of struggle yet there's blood leading outside which suddenly stops as if the victims just disappeared into thin air. Poof"

Billy made a gesture with his hands to reinforce his point, he looked like a magician to Dean, but he decided keeping his mouth shut on that comment would probably be the wisest thing.

"Listen, I really don't know what to think, all this, it's way out of my league. Some of the things I've heard, I don't have a clue what to think about"

"Things like what?" Asked Sam as he leant further forward.

"One of the friends of the last victim, said she kept calling her in the middle of the night, crying and screaming about seeing things"

"What things?"

"A child, in the street"

"You got the name of this friend?"


	2. Chapter 2

The site won't let me reply to all your amazing reviews, so let me just take this opportunity to say a HUGE thankyou for reading and reviewing and sorry i haven't replied personally. Hopefully the site will calm down soon!

Also thank you to ToriTheReviewer for pointing out that the seperations between the different parts of the chapters was missing, believe me i had them added but they disappeared when i posted! Thanks for letting me know, i'll remember to check future chapters X

Ok, on with the show:

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Chapter Two

Shelley Lee dug another hole, deeper than the last, and placed the fledging rosebush carefully into the ground. She carefully patted the dirt around the base, mindful of the thorns on the young plant, securing the stem into the garden, ensuring it remained standing as it grew into a forceful reminder of the beauty of life.

This was her ritual, every year for the past sixteen. Plant a flower on this day. She'd worked her way through so many different ones, now it was a rose bush. The blood red colours reminding her of that night when it had all almost ended. Did end. Only to start again.

She wiped the sweat that had pooled above her eyes with the back of one muddied, gloved hand. Sitting back on her legs she gazed at the rose bush, trying to imagine it fully grown. What would she plant next year? Would she make it to this day a year from now? If the roses were to survive then she'd have to tend to them, have to be here for them, have to stay.

She blinked up at the midday sun and basked in it's warmth. Today was a good day, a positive day.

What would tomorrow hold?

She'd managed to keep herself held high and walking forward, stumbling, yes, but picking herself up from her knees and carrying on. Rachel had managed the same, they understood that in each other, understood the pain of pushing forward into another day, of walking outside, allowing life to continue. Where was Rachel? The police had nothing, they had no leads, no clues, well, none that they'd divulge though. But from the looks in their eyes Shelley knew they thought Rachel was dead.

So did Shelley, but maybe not at the hands of this killer that the papers were calling the Invisible Abductor. No, Shelley imagined something more prosaic, something more Plath for Rachel. A basement somewhere, curled up in the corner, asleep, peaceful, never to awaken. A kinder thought than the one that plagued her at night, waking her screaming from the images of her friend being murdered at the hands of an attacker.

If her friend had decided on her own path then Shelley knew she'd have to respect her decision. Even if it cut deep. But they'd promised each other a note would be left, some form of recognition. Shelley had always thought to leave Rachel her home and garden, give her a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to leave the house. Be responsible for lives, even if they were just plants. Rachel though? Rachel had always said she would leave her journal. Would drop it off on the porch step and leave quietly, no fuss, no mess. Just disappear.

But nothing had been left, and there was the blood in the street. Shelley knew Rachel, knew she would never allow someone else to clean up her mess, would never allow the heart break of a blood trail. If she was going to do it, it would have been pills and a deep sleep.

Clean, quiet.

No, Rachel hadn't made 'the' decision, not yet. Shelley was sure. Something else had taken her.

She was broken from her reverie by a quiet cough that came from just outside her small fence. She looked up, and up until she found the kindest eyes she'd ever seen looking down at her.

"Hi, I'm Officer Markson , are you Shelley Lee?"

Shelley pulled off her gloves as she stood and extended her hand to the young man in greeting.

"Yes, that's me"

"Is it ok if I ask you some questions about Rachel Jacobs?"

"Sure, I'm not sure what help I can be though, I've told the other Officer everything that Rachel told me"

Dean stepped forward and shook Shelley's hand lightly.

"Hi, I'm Officer Page, Anything you can tell us will be a great help"

"What do you want to know?"

"You've said to our colleague that Rachel was acting strange? Saying she kept seeing someone in the street"

"Yes, a little girl, she said she'd seen her three or four times but every time she ran to her she disappeared. A few days later is when Rachel vanished. That's all I know"

Sam smiled his kindest, most sincere smile and Dean rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming, his brother was about to hit her with a full on Sam-Attack.

"Listen, I know that's what you've told the other Officers , but we need to know anything, anything at all that you think can help us find your friend"

Shelley considered him, his sincere look, his deep brown eyes, begging her to trust him. She hadn't told the other Officers about the suicidal thoughts that Rachel and her both shared, about the pact with the parting gifts. She guessed that as soon as she mentioned that then the search was over. But this officer, he seemed to care, he seemed to want to know. Something about him told her he could help. Hell, she needed all the help she could get at the moment. Rachel hadn't disappeared of her own accord, of that Shelley was certain.

"There, erm.." Shelley paused, so scared that he would walk away the second the words left her lips.

Sam bent slightly so that he wasn't towering above her and he smiled again, encouraging.

"There was an understanding between us, a kind of pact. You have to understand she didn't do anything though, I know that for a fact" Shelley's voice had risen in pitch and her posture was defensive, Dean stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

"It's ok, you don't have to defend anything, just tell us"

"Maybe you should come inside, this isn't a conversation I want overheard"

The brothers followed Shelley into her house, the white exterior of the porch gave way to a beautifully open expanse of living room and kitchen, everything bright and airy, everything opened and welcoming. The whole house was daring to defy anyone of experiencing claustrophobia. The interior was all cream, the couch a light mauve colour and the floor a light beige. There were pictures on every wall, family members, friends, posters of mountains and seas, of whales and dolphins, of horses and valleys. The whole place struck Sam as a constant reminder of the beauty of life, although it seemed to him that this was forced, as if this woman was desperately trying to remind herself that living was good. Living was easy.

"Coffee?"

"Please"

Sam glared at Dean who simply looked innocent and raised his arms in a shrug. He mouthed the words 'What?' and earned a shake of the head from Sam. Sam hated taking anything from the people they had to investigate and research. Dean however was all for the free stuff, even if it was just a cup of coffee.

Shelley brought the mugs over and set them on the pine table in the centre of the room. She sat across from the brothers in another mauve chair.

"Shelley?" Sam prompted.

"Rachel and I , we had this, pact" Shelley spread her hands then brought them back together, entwining the fingers and seeming to test that each digit was there, her fingers became so entwined that Dean was mesmerized by the action, forgetting for a second why they were there until Sam coughed again to bring the attention back to the matter at hand.

"We've been friends for years, many years now actually. We met at a support group for people who had near death experiences."

"You almost died?"

"Yes, in a car crash, took them ten minutes to bring me back. I had a hard time dealing with that, the thought that I'd almost made it only to be brought back"

Sam tensed visibly, had he heard her right? To his surprise it was Dean that spoke.

"They found you in time?"

"Yes"

"How'd they know where to look?"

Shelley looked at Dean with tears in her eyes but a smile on her face. He understood.

Sam looked at his brother a little shocked. He was only just beginning to catch up with the conversation .

"Considering I chose a secluded road with little to no traffic, can you believe a do good woman walking her dog called the paramedics?" Shelley laughed sadly at the memory.

"It was sixteen years ago today. I met Rachel at a group for people who were finding it difficult to move on after their experiences, my mother had made me go, I never told her how the accident really happened so I had to play along and go to the meeting, all seemed a bit forced to tell you the truth, but I was thankful I met Rachel. She was there because she had taken an accidental overdose, or so she claimed at the time, she soon told me the truth. Honestly though, we both saw the need for a reason in each other, so we became that reason. Every year we planted a flower in my garden, we'd call each other every day, we'd meet up for lunch, dinner , we became each other's crutch. We had a pact, that if ever we decided to do it, really do it, that we'd leave the other something. Rachel was supposed to leave her journal on my porch"

"She never did?" Asked Dean.

Shelley shook her head sadly.

"And that's how you know she's been taken?"

"Yeah"

"Why didn't you tell the other officers?" Asked Sam, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. He tried to ignore the thought that Dean knew what this woman had meant before he had out of his mind.

"I thought they'd give up the search. Figure she was just another suicidal person that had gone missing. She hasn't though, hasn't ended it herself, I just know she hasn't"

Dean sipped his coffee and looked at Sam over the rim, his brother still looked a little shocked at the way the conversation had gone, but Dean had understood. Maybe that's what had shocked little brother so, no doubt he'd find out soon enough. Sam had the 'I think we need to talk' look etched across his features.

Dean just raised his eyes and carried on drinking.

Sam raised his eyes and frowned. He turned back to Shelley.

"If we have any further questions is it ok if we call you?"

"Sure"

Shelley showed them both to the door, as they walked out onto the porch she caught Dean's arm.

"You're not going to give up the search are you?"

"Not until we find her or find out what happened to her."

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So how'd ya think it's shaping up? Hope you like, if you do, let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Dean leant into the light of the laptop as the day began to recede and night swept across the land. The small lamp in the room was the only illumination besides the glow of the screen, both brothers had been so engaged in the research that the dark descending had gone unnoticed.

"Ok, so , twelve disappearances, the police say serial killer, although we have no killer, out of the twelve, four had gone to one of those meeting type things"

Sam raised his eyebrows and glanced at Dean across the table.

"Meeting type things?"

"What?"

"Support groups"

"Yeah, well, the only thing a support group offers is the reassurance that there's other people just as messed up as you"

"That's not what they're for"

"Come on Sammy, a bunch of people, sitting around sharing their sad stories, that's supposed to make you feel better? Uh uh, no way man. If anything that would just push people further over the edge"

"You're really anti social you know that"

"Am not"

"Are too"

Sam poured through the papers strewn across the small table. There were profiles of all twelve victims, kindly given to them by Officer Watkins. Helpful old soul that he was.

"Am not"

Sam looked up at his sibling, frustration pouring from his eyes.

"Dean, these people need to talk, to know they're not alone, it's what real people do"

"Real people?"

"Yeah, the ones that have a life and friends"

"I have friends"

"Name one that isn't passed on from Dad"

Dean thought for a minute, scratched his head and then announced proudly "Tony Jessop!"

"Oh come on! Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"You knew Tony when you were twelve and by the time you were thirteen you had beaten the crap out of him twice"

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't had picked on you"

"Like to see him try to knock me over now"

"Hell yeah, bet the guy stayed midget sized, he always was small"

"So" Sam started, determined to get the conversation back on track "We have missing people, no bodies, I'm thinking phantom snatcher?"

"Maybe, or maybe they're being possessed, not disappearing as such but being taken away"

"Wouldn't explain the blood"

"Yeah that's weird, every house has a trail out to the street, then, nothing'"

"Have you ever thought about it?"

Dean looked up at Sam, the way he had asked had seemed, scared?

"Thought about what?"

"You know, what Shelley said"

"Killing myself? Never seriously, no"

"So you have thought about it"

"Everyone has at some point Sam, just some people follow through with the thought while others discard it the second it enters their head"

"So?"

"So what?"

"Which were you?"

"Sam come on man, yes I thought about it, but that was it, one thought and gone, I'd never leave you or Dad man"

"Ok, that's good"

"You telling me you never thought about it?"

"No"

"No?"

"No"

"Not even after, you know"

"Jess?"

Dean nodded slowly, Sam sighed and sat back, he knew this was a fear of Dean's. Hell it had been a fear of his own for a while.

"I guess if I didn't have the overwhelming urge to find the son of a bitch that killed her and unload all the gun clips and knives into the sucker then yeah, I'd entertain the thought"

"Not while I'm around you won't"

"What?"

Dean's tone had taken Sam aback, so forceful, so sure and precise. He smiled at his sibling and waited a second until Dean smiled back at him. The softly he said "Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"This is a moment you know"

Dean frowned, huffed and then began to pour through the web pages again.

"So, we have twelve in total, all with blood trails, some saw things before they died, others felt like they were being followed"

Sam continued to smile as he went through the pages in front of him, Dean tried to ignore him, which was proving difficult considering how big the squirt was.

"We're not getting anywhere here, I think we need to go back to the beginning"

"Why?" Dean stood and stretched, sighing with relief as his joints popped in unison.

"If this is a serial killer like the cops think, then the first victim is going to be the one that will lead us to more clues"

"Because the first victim usually knows the attacker"

"Pretty smart there big brother"

"That's why you've learnt from the best Sammy"

He watched the house, watched the light play from within, dancing against the night to the sound of the dusk, the rustle of the wind through the trees, running down the street like a child to candy. He watched silently, unmoving, calculating.

The consequences of his actions had hindered him only in guilt. His guide through these choices only served as a reminder of the thing he could no longer have. He watched as she made her way across the street, transparent in her beauty but deadly in her desire. She paused against the window, peering in with her child's eyes full of wonder and envy. Her hands pressed against the glass creating a chill through the panes which held her finger prints for only a second before they too, disappeared into memory.

Did anyone remember her anymore? Did anyone care? It had been so long since her feet felt the ground, it had been so long since touch registered in her nerves, since she felt anything of anyone. Holding her father's hand all she could feel was the cold loss of despair and grief, his hands gripping hers even though if she wanted, if she thought it and willed it, his fingers would pass through her palm like a bird through smoke. Leaving only a trail behind in the absence of hope.

Yet they knew a way, a way to make it bearable, a way to ease the pain and suffering. The only price a soul but wasn't that worth it? He knew the answer in his heart was yes, but his mind allowed the other voice to break through, the female voice of reason and the knowledge that what he had done was wrong, so very , very wrong. He was playing with a magic far beyond his years, far beyond his control. All for what? For love.

He watched as she rose up to the highest window and tapped on the glass, within moments a light broke through the blackness and illuminated the street, a woman appeared at the window, searching for the source of the sound.

Beside him from his place across from the house the man crouched down in the undergrowth, his daughter by his side. Their bodies entwined and became one, his firm and muscular , a proud father, hers glowing and fragile, a broken daughter.

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Thank you all for your reviews and kind words, hope you like this chapter, let me know !

XXX


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Dean awoke sometime after 2am. This was his pattern, different to Sammy's but similar in pain and nature. He awoke with a start, his body breathing in precious air, desperate to fill his lungs from the dream which had ripped the breath from his airways, left him vulnerable and shivering, cold from the lack of warmth in his bones and from the lingering memory of the reaper's hand on his cheek, his skin tingled with the memory.

Squeezing his eyes closed Dean willed his heart rate back to something resembling normal. The dream was always the same, the reaper coming toward him in the dark parking lot, the absence of illumination only serving to fuel the feeling that this was it, no escape, he'd cheated death once, there was no way he would be allowed a reprieve this time.

As the room came back into focus and the sound of Sam's deep breathing filtered through the latent buzz in his ears, Layla's face appeared in his memory, sad and broken, begging for a miracle, yet holding onto the hope that the path she was forced to walk would be the one to lead her to better things.

Would it?

What path had Dean been made to walk? Was it his path?

Before the thoughts began to suffocate he pulled himself up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, splashing water on his face he stayed bent over for a few seconds. The pain and indecision slowly receding. He'd understood Shelley's thinking, understood her need to find something to live for. Dean knew he would sacrifice himself to save others, to save those that deserved better. He knew this was his lot in life, this was his path, whether his by choice or his by tragedy. He had a job to do and he was going to do it well.

What did he really live for ? His family. Pure and simple. Until they were safe he wouldn't stop. With Dad missing Dean knew he was all that stood between Sam and the evil of the world. Had Sam ever thought of ending it all? Those nights when his little brother had lain awake, staring at the ceiling and reliving that night so recent in memory but so distant in time, Dean had been awake with him, he kept his eyes closed but he listened to the stifled cries, the agonising shudders that stole through Sam's body as the emotion overwhelmed him. Often he'd run to the bathroom and Dean would sit in bed, wanting to go to his little brother crying on the cold tiled floor, but that wasn't his decision to make, Sam had to give permission, allow him that. If anyone were to barge in when his defences were down he knew Sam would react badly, ashamed even. He used his anger as a crutch to get him through the day, if he knew that Dean was aware of the breakages within then his strength would fail. That wasn't going to happen, not while Dean was on watch. If little brother needed the solitude to let go in order to keep the anger for the hunt then so be it.

We all have our ways of dealing, hell, Dean wasn't doing all that well but Sam didn't need to know that. Ever since the reaper had tried to claim him he'd felt oddly resigned to his fate. Knowing at some point he'd see that old weathered man again, see those cold eyes and extended hand, would he back away? Would he walk forward? Would he stand still and drop to his knee's like last time?

Survivors guilt Sam had called it, yeah, right. He'd survived his Mother's death, he'd survived electrocution, he'd survived the reaper, did he deserve to survive anything else? Surely he was winning the life lottery here but for what purpose?

_A young man with an important job to do, and it isn't finished yet._

What job? Hunting? Protecting Sam? Finding Dad? Or taking the chance of life from one person for his own, albeit unwillingly, he'd still snatched Layla's life away. The obit's in Nebraska were ones he left for Sam to check through, he knew Sam was aware of the reason. He knew Sam would tell him if he saw her name. He just didn't want to see it himself.

Dean dried his face and padded quietly back to bed, pulling the covers around him he closed his eyes and prayed for a peaceful sleep till dawn, till Sam's trip outside for the sunset awoke him and they could carry on the hunt. Helping people. Their purpose.

Shelley tossed and turned in her bed, pulled her covers closer around her and tried to ignore the chill that had settled into her bones, her eyes kept straying to the window a few feet away, the street light curling it's fingers around the curtains and tainting the room with it's failing light. Dawn was close, she could hear the world awakening outside, the birds calling to each other across the great expanse of the city, calling their loved ones home to roost, calling the young back to the nest, calling to ensure all were well and had made it through the darkness to fly free into the sun.

Shelley ran through a list of the things she needed to do that day, she needed to feed Tabitha, funny how cats seemed to adopt the floundering souls of the world to make them theirs. The tabby cat had come around a year ago and had yet to leave. She had asked around the neighbourhood but no one knew where she'd come from. Her Tabitha, asleep by her feet, any movement from Shelley eliciting a purr from cat. The warmth of the animal's life had seeped through the covers and was warming her toes, such a nice simple feeling. This is what mattered, the little things in life, the small things that caused your mouth to twitch into a smile. Then, for a second, one small but oh so important second, you were whole. Fleeting but treasured.

Shelley's mind stalled, yes, she had to feed Tabitha, had to make sure her rose bush was settling into it's new home, had to tidy the living room, clean the kitchen, but then what?

Rachel, she needed Rachel. There was nothing else to fill her day, no other friends to call. She'd never had a big group of friends. In school there was one friend, Michelle, she'd stayed loyal until for some obscure reason she'd faded away like drift wood on the ocean, taken away by the current for some far off shore with sunshine to bask and sand to run in.

Shelley smiled as she rolled onto her side, wrapping the covers tighter around herself, Tabitha meowed then purred, pushing herself further into the sad human who'd she'd taken to. This sad woman who'd been so kind, who stroked and caressed, who bled pain until Tabitha could take no more and made it her goal to see the woman smile, one purr and she'd succeeded.

Maybe Michelle couldn't take the drama anymore? Shelley had often wondered how much her depression and view on life had affected her friend. Maybe it had started to pull her down, an anchor against her will to spread her wings and fly away. Once the tie was severed Shelley hoped Michelle was happy, she'd left behind a broken toy, but no matter whether she'd stayed or not Shelley would still be broken. That wasn't fair on Michelle to have to stand by and watch.

Or maybe it was something more simple, maybe Michelle just wasn't the person Shelley thought her to be, didn't deserve the peddle stool she was placed upon. Maybe that was all it boiled down to, there would good people, and there were bad, and once the bad had their fill of the good they walked away.

Finding no other reason to get out of bed, and noting Tabitha still wasn't awake and hungry, Shelley closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She'd managed only a few hours, the tapping on the window from last night had scared her, she swore she had seen a hand print on the glass, but it had faded from view. Maybe this was it, she was losing her grip on reality and falling into the abyss. Funny, she always thought that when that happened she'd be lost in a happy world living out fantasies known only to her, not descending into madness full of nightmares and strange noises.

But then life was never that fair.

She willed sleep to claim her, concentrated on Tabitha's purring, but there was something niggling at her senses, another noise. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was, something. A laugh? Opening her eyes Shelley looked toward the window, the dawn beginning to break had forced the street lights to give way to the early morning sunshine. She stood and walked to the window , pulling the curtains back and gazing out onto the silent street, too early for anyone to be making their way into their day. The sound of a child's laughter was unmistakable, searching the street she couldn't see the source. Shelley opened the window, leaned forward and looked left and right, the sound was louder now.

Then she saw her.

Standing in the middle of the road, her feet balancing on the white dividing line. A small child with her hands on her knee's, bent forward in the midst of hysterics, her laughter was so loud now, echoing through Shelley's soul.

The child was no more than seven, wearing a light blue dress with lace edging and short sleeves, a white sash around her middle and little sandals upon her feet, her long auburn hair was falling across her shoulders, the top half pulled back by a pretty blue bow, she braced herself against her thighs and then stood up straight, the silence held onto the memory of the laughter, her face contorted in pain as she looked directly up into Shelley's eyes. Her face began to redden, small streaks of blood began to flow down her forehead and cheeks, her eyes darkened as soot ran from the corners. She frowned, Shelley stood back, her hands flying to her mouth to keep the scream inside.

The child pointed to her.

_Not fair_

Inside Shelley was screaming but outside she was routed to the spot, unable to draw breath, the child shimmered, if she'd been able to blink Shelley would have sworn she had imagined it. She shimmered again and then fell to the ground.

The sight of the small child collapsing was the catalyst needed to push Shelley into action, she ran from the bedroom, oblivious to Tabitha hissing at an unknown danger sensed from her place now under the bed. She ran down the stairs, slammed into the front door and fumbled with the lock, in a few steps she was in the garden, out the gate and standing in the empty road.

No child.

No sound.

Just two small, black shoe prints the only evidence she'd ever been there.

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Again thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed, you guys really make a difference by letting me know what you think

X


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Morning sunshine!"

Sam stood over Dean's bed, two cups of coffee in his hands, the sunrise that morning had been amazing, had warmed his heart and settled his soul. Damn he was in a good mood, his first genuinely good mood in so long.

The glare from Dean only served to broaden his smile.

"What time is it?"

"Eight."

"Really?"

"Really, guess you needed the sleep"

Dean sat and took his coffee from Sam, watched as he made his way over to the small table and opened the laptop, the computer instantly buzzing to life.

"You been up long?"

"A while I guess, I've been doing some more research into the first victim"

"Did you sleep the whole night ?"

Sam was startled by the question, but when he thought about it, he had to admit he had, for the first time since Jessica, the first time since Nebraska, he'd slept the whole night.

"Yeah"

"Weird"

"You're telling me, must be that 'moment' we had last night"

"Can it Francis"

Sam smiled and continued flicking through web pages, he had slept the whole night through, he marvelled at the thought, but he understood why, since Nebraska he'd been so strung out with his need to protect Dean, to save his big brother that his dreams of Jess had taken a back seat for a while, they were still there, but morphed into Dean laying lifeless in his arms as he waited for the paramedics to arrive, to save his brother, in his dream he watched as the reaper approached, cradled the failing sibling in his arms and walked away with Dean while Sam was powerless to do anything. But the last few nights the dreams had receded quicker, he still awoke with a start, always at 5am, but he'd been sleeping more. Part of him thought maybe it was just the exhaustion catching up, but another part thought maybe he was relaxing in Dean's company, his brother's careful attention finally helping to ease the pain. It had to happen sooner or later he guessed. He was still as determined as ever to find the sick son-of-a-bitch who had killed Jess and his mother, but the fact he could sleep for longer was only going to help with his energy in the coming fight. Since Dean was cured he'd relaxed a little more, they'd cheated death, he'd saved his brother, a little pay back for all the times he'd come to Sam's rescue. Plus the nights he'd spent crying alone in the bathroom had allowed him to purge his dam of sorrow, the risk of overflow beginning to cause in him a sense of drowning, but with every evil thing they hunted and killed, with every nightmare they cheated, a part of him grew stronger.

They were making a difference. And for that he deserved a few nights of sleep. Sam had no doubt the dreams would come back, but if they allowed him these moments to regain his strength and replenish the will to fight then that was alright with him.

Dean sat across from him nursing his coffee, he'd already been to the bathroom, showered and dressed, his hair still needed brushing and flattening but at least he felt more awake now.

"Well?"

"Ok, well, I checked through the list of victims Bill gave us, the first one was a woman called Hope Parker"

"I'll ignore the irony"

"She disappeared a year ago, had complained to neighbours and friends that she kept seeing her little girl in the street"

"Her little girl?"

"Yeah, see, that's where it gets interesting, seems Hope was in a car accident a year prior to that, her little girl had been with her but she hadn't survived. The husband, Thomas, says here he left her about a month after the accident, her mother lives around here though"

"We need to talk to the mother"

Elizabeth Selkca stared at the two Agents across from her, she held them within her suspicious gaze, hadn't the police already asked enough questions? Why the hell was she having to go through this again? They had no respect, that's what it was, they had no respect for those grieving, she may not have a body but she didn't need that to know Hope was dead. A mother knew, knew it in her heart and soul when a child gave up the life given with so much love.

Bitter? Yes. Elizabeth was bitter. She had many a bone to pick, starting with these two sitting across from her in her kitchen, drinking her coffee and taking up her time.

She raised her eyebrows, Sam took that as a sign to begin.

"We're sorry to have to bother you Mrs Selkca but we need to clarify a few things, you know, in order to stop these disappearances"

"People disappear all the time Agent Ulrich"

"Yes Ma'am, but anything you can tell us could help find them"

"How can you find them? They're dead, you know it, the public know it"

Sam smiled and put on his kindest face, using his softest voice, although all he really wanted to do was grab this unco-operative woman by her floral fugly shirt and demand answers to his questions. He glanced down into his coffee, he had still to take a sip, Dean however had downed half a cup. Sam was sure the old bat had spat in their drinks. She'd been rude from the get go and when Dean had said yes to her half hearted offer of coffee she'd instantly began seething, banging around her kitchen and moaning about the valuable time they were taking up.

"We just need you to tell us about Hope, about the accident, about what she said she saw before she disappeared"

"She was in a car accident, no doubt caused by a male driver in a wreckless car" This said to Dean, "Her daughter died, her husband blamed her, mind you considering all the things she forgave him for he had a cheek to blame her for anything, good for nothing low down dirty cheating bastard"

Dean choked down his coffee, pretty sure he'd just swallowed something resembling spit.

"She was depressed, refused my help, began to blame everyone and everything and then claimed of all things to be seeing Megan in the street. My daughter lost her grip on reality, plain and simple. Without a thought to how that would effect me she then disappeared, good riddance too. Do you know I've had to go to church and suffer the looks and gossip of all the ladies in the group. Did Hope ever think of what I would have to stand? No, no she didn't. Selfish, that's what my daughter was. Are we done?"

Refusing to give into the want to smack the woman Sam smiled, nodded and stood up, as he turned he caught Dean's paling face and shocked look into his coffee cup.

Yep, the old bat had definitely spat into the liquid.

As they walked out onto the porch Elizabeth Selkca slammed the door full force on their heals. Dean turned and coughed until he spat, right smack into her rose bush.

"You ok?"

"You know she spat in the coffee?" He asked incredulously.

"I figured"

"You couldn't have told me?"

"You couldn't have said no to the drink?"

"Dude you have issues, it's like I don't even know you"

They made their way from the porch to the street, walking toward the waiting impala, as they neared two elderly ladies, arms entwined, wearing matching pattern dresses in slightly different colours, rushed in front of them , motioning them closer.

"Excuse me lad, but we couldn't help noticing"

"You were just coming from Mrs Selkca's"

Dean wasn't sure which one had said what, he was sure they'd both spoken at the same time but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the massive blue mole above one of the ladies eyes, every time she blinked the thing seemed to leap toward him, Sam spotted what had taken his siblings attention and elbowed him in the ribs.

Dean resisted the urge to run away, grab a machete and cut the thing off, instead he smiled and watched as they melted, young girls, teenagers, twenty something bar flies and old ladies, none could resist his charms.

Who could blame them?

"Yeah, we're investigating the recent disappearances and were trying to find out more about her daughter, can you help us?"

He leaned forward and smiled again, mentally hearing Sam roll his eyes.

"Oh son, oh yes we can"

"We can help you but you can't tell her"

"If she knew we spoke to you she'd be spitting fire"

"And we don't want to be in that woman's bad books again, not after last time"

"Last time was awful wasn't it Violet?"

"Oh yes, awful. And we apologised"

"Not like it was out fault anyway"

Sam blinked to clear his vision and try to stay focused, he was sure the one on the left was mouthing the words that the one on the right was saying, and vice versa.

Give him monsters any day, they were a lot easier to keep up with than old ladies.

Best let Dean deal with the women, that was his area of expertise.

"Ladies, you know anything about her daughter and the accident?"

"Oh yes son we do, such a shame that, poor girl, to have a mother so lost as she was, I blame Elizabeth"

"Me too, she ruined that girl and in turn that girl ruined her girl"

Dean needed Tylenol, or a mallet, he'd take either at the moment.

"What girl? Are you talking about Hope?"

"Megan, young man you really need to listen up"

"Young people just don't pay attention these days"

"Always did in our day"

"Oh yes, always did"

"Megan?" The mallet was becoming the more likely option.

"Ah yes, Megan, such a beautiful child, so happy and full of beans"

"I thank the father for that"

"Oh yes definitely, Thomas kept that child happy and protected from Hope"

"She was depressed you see"

"Very depressed, from what I heard she'd tried counselling, pills, new age stuff, all of it, but she just wasn't a happy woman"

"Well you wouldn't be if you had to live with Elizabeth as a mother, I swear that woman revels in causing misery"

"The accident was no accident you know"

"Nope, never was an accident, Thomas had been wanting to leave with Megan, Hope's mood swings and depression had gotten too much, she was harming herself and threatening to end it all. So one day"

"She gets in her car and drives full speed with Megan in the back, full speed into a wall."

"Poor child died from the crash, although I've heard she was alive when the car caught fire"

"A passer by pulled Hope from the car but they couldn't get to little Megan before the flames took her little body"

"Such a beautiful child. I really hope she died instantly"

"Oh me to, breaks my heart to think she suffered."

"Hope lost it after that, Thomas could ever forgive her so he left, she just wasted away after that"

"We kept seeing her in the street, calling for Megan, kept saying she saw her and that she was alive, every time we saw Hope she was thinner. I think she stopped eating"

"Or Elizabeth stopped cooking, I swear that woman spits in all the food she makes"

Sam suppressed a smirk as Dean paled again.

"Then Hope went missing, I think she killed herself, she managed it twice"

"Oh yes that's right she did"

"Twice?" Asked Dean quizzically.

"Her heart stopped at the hospital after the crash, took them a while to bring her back so I'm told."

"Should have let the poor woman die, it's what she wanted"

"Thank you so much ladies for your time, you've been a great help."

"Anything for a handsome man like you"

"Oh yes I bet all the ladies swoon at the sight of you"

"If I were just a few years younger"

"Or do you make exceptions for the elderly?"

Dean gaped at the two women who were looking at him like an alcoholic looks at whiskey.

Sam steered Dean away while thanking the two women again.

Once safely cocooned inside the impala, doors and windows locked in case the two ladies walking down the street decided to come back for another chat, or another crack at Dean, the brothers breathed a sigh of relief, looked at each other , and burst out laughing.

"Oh god that was scary"

"Big, strong mean Dean Winchester, terrified by old ladies"

"Give me demons any day"

The brothers burst into laughter again, although Dean's cautionary looks down the street toward the fading figures only served to fuel the laughter in Sam.

"Ok, thank god we made it out alive"

"Seriously Dude she spat in my coffee"

"That'll teach you to keep taking advantage"

"Those oldies wanted to take advantage of me"

"I would have protected you brother, they'd have to have got through me"

"God that fugly mole alone was enough to make me use you as a human shield"

Dean gunned the engine and started down the street.

"So, where to?"

"Well, seems this started with that accident and the child is definitely a theme, so, spirit? We need to get to the library to find out more about the accident and the family"

"Oh yes, can't be a hunt without a trip to the library for the bookworm"

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I just want to say thankyou to everyone for your reviews and for reading, sorry i haven't managed to get back to each of you but please know i treasure your words and they mean so much.

I actually know two ladies like the ones in this chapter, they scare the hell out of me and i swear i can feel my life draining when i have to play nice and listen!

Hope you liked this chappy. Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Sam exited the library to find Dean waiting with a coffee by his car, they'd split up in order to find out as much as they could, although Sam was sure that Dean had suggested splitting up because he'd seen the two elderly women from before making their way into the library for the weekly book review and coffee meeting.

Sam had found many news reports detailing the events of the accident, Megan's death and Hope's subsequent breakdown. Apparently Thomas had cheated on her and was going to leave, he'd had enough of the suicidal threats and decided a happier woman and more positive life for Megan were to be his goals, all this leaving Hope desperate enough to take her child and try to end it all. The thought that had she succeeded , killed her daughter and herself, then they'd be dealing with a Woman in White instead of a child who seemed to be driving people insane to the point that they disappeared sent a shiver through Sam. All other accounts of the missing people told of them seeing a girl, following them, standing in a street, tapping on their windows, the police, now knowing what to make of such rubbish had ignored the sightings and focused instead on a possible serial abductor. All the accounts started with the tapping, then the following night the girl in the street, then the victims disappeared. He'd almost run from the library and hauled Dean as far away as he could as he read again and again of near death experiences, each victim having had a brush with death, each one being pulled back from the arms of oblivion before their souls could detach from their bodies. Either car crashes, overdoses and in one case an accidental fall from a roof top by a builder on a new housing estate. They'd all barely survived, only to be stalked by a dead girl and snatched from existence.

He gathered his research and left the library, finding his brother leaning against his car, coffee in hand.

"Thought you'd be put off coffee for life?"

"Yeah, well, I watched this one from pot to cup so I know it's clean. What did you find out?"

"Well, the girl is definitely part of this. All accounts state the victims saw a young girl in the street before they disappeared. I think we should talk to Shelley again, find more about what Rachel saw, what did you find?"

"I got the address for Thomas Parker from a girl at the post office"

"Anything else?"

"Oh yeah, she's a scorpio, loves music"

"Dean"

"And I got her number"

"Seriously bro your priorities are whacked"

"Yeah well, I needed to cleanse my soul after almost having my bones jumped by two wrinklies"

"Cleanse your soul?"

"Dude I felt unclean, I've drank spat and been mentally undressed by a blue mole, I'm having a rough day"

Sam laughed as Dean scowled up at him, the scowl quickly turning to horror as the colour drained from his face and his eyes took on a deer in headlights look.

"Dean? What is it?"

"We got to go. NOW!"

"Hey sweetie! Oh laddie do you need anymore help?"

"He looks like he needs our help"

"They always do"

"SAM . CAR . NOW"

XXXXXXXXXX

Shelley stared out of her window, she should be tending to her garden, should be cleaning her house, but the child had unnerved her, the footprints in the street had faded to such a degree she was starting to doubt if she had actually seen the girl at all.

Plus she had the feeling she was being watched. She searched the bushes across the street from the safety of her living room. She was sure she'd seen a shimmer of movement, but it had been fleeting.

Was she really losing it? All these years of forcing herself to live finally taking their toll?

Part of her hoped so , part of her wanted to embrace the shattering of her soul, but there was another part, the innocent child inside that cried out for life and living and for the wonder of new experiences, the inner child who still held onto the hope that one day the adult would see the beauty and welcome it with open arms. She wrapped her arms around her, shivering despite the warmth of her home.

Shelley was broken from her thoughts by the growling sound of the Impala as the Agents from the previous day pulled up outside her house. What Agents drove a classic car like that?

She opened the door as they stepped up onto the porch, gone were the black suits and professional look, in it's place two determined young men with confidence in their gait and compassion in their eyes.

"You need more information _Agents_?" Shelley stressed the last word and didn't miss the look that past between the two men.

"Can we come in and talk?" Sam smiled and nodded as she stepped aside to allow them access.

Shelley followed the men into her living room, she remained standing as they took their previous positions on the couch. Arms folded, she regarded them sternly, her senses alert since her recent experiences had caused her to question everything.

"Who are you? You're not Agents, that much I know"

"No, we're not" Sam leaned his elbows on his knees. Clasping his hands together. "We're here to investigate the disappearances and try to stop it from happening again"

"Then why are you following me?"

"We're not following you, we only came here to ask more questions."

"Really? I think tapping on the window was a bit much don't you?"

"Shelley?" Dean stood and walked toward her. "When did you hear the tapping?"

Shelley stood her ground, but inside she felt her resolve leave her, her hopes that it was these two playing games vanished along with her strength to appear stern.

"It wasn't you?" Her whispered sentence, her voice breaking, her mind reeling.

"Shelley? Please, tell us what's going on. We're here to help, we want to help. Please"

"I heard tapping on the window" Dean guided Shelley to the couch and gently pushed her into it's comfort. "I saw, thought I saw, god it can't be" She looked up into the faces of the two men, Dean crouched on his haunches in front of her and held her hand, encouraging her to continue.

"I saw a girl, a little girl in the street, she was laughing, but then, but then she, she looked up at me and she was covered in blood and soot"

Sam stole a glance to Dean who raised his eyes.

"Am I going insane?"

"No sweetheart, you're not"

"That makes it so much worse" Shelley dropped her head as gentle sobs coursed through her body, Dean pulled her close, her head resting against his shoulder as her sobs became cries, Sam gently rubbed her back, then stood and went to the kitchen to bring her a glass of water.

Carefully pulling her from him, carefully guiding her eyes to him, Dean spoke softly but with a force that brought her from her misery.

"We can stop it, but we need your help, Rachel saw the same thing remember. Let us help you"

"Will I disappear if you don't?"

"I don't know, honestly I don't, but we're going to do our best to stop that from happening, but you have to want to help"

"Want to help? You mean not give up"

"Yeah, I mean that. You need to hold onto something you want to live for and don't you let go, no matter what it is."

"I don't know what it is" Shelley's voice was but a whisper, "But I don't want to go insane"

"I'm not going to let you"

Sam brought the water to Shelley and sat back down beside her. He smiled but then turned his attention to Dean, his big brother, so resolute in his determination to save everyone. He hoped they could uncover enough of the mystery to save this woman in time.

"Ok, how can I help?" The brothers both regarded Shelley as she sat up straight and looked to them with determination. She wrapped her cardigan around her tighter, attempting to fend off the chills from within.

"You said you nearly died, that your heart stopped and you were brought back" Sam hoped his hunch played out.

"That's right"

"And Rachel?"

"She took an overdose, they found her in the bathroom, on the way to the hospital her heart stopped for a few minutes"

Dean nodded to Sam to continue, as much as he hated it they were on the right track.

"Shelley, we think the spirit of a little girl is attacking people who almost died. We think she's getting revenge because she was killed."

"A spirit?"

"You said it yourself, you saw a child, Rachel saw a child. The others that disappeared, all the accounts mention a child appearing in the street"

"Oh god, I'm next aren't I?"

"I don't know, but we know who the little girl is, we're going to stop this, we just need you to stay here, stay indoors and call us if you see or hear anything"

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to the little girls father"

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Thomas Parker stood in the small room of his home, up the stairs and toward the back of the house, the smallest room that held the biggest of secrets, the alter was made from things he would have scoffed and laughed at, called voodoo and walked away from. Not now though, now he knew the power that so few had wielded over so many.

The first night after Megan's death, as he had sat vigil over his wife in the hospital, waiting for her to awaken to refute the claims of witnesses that she had deliberately aimed her car into a wall, he had sat and felt icy fingers tracing lines across his hands. A cool breath on his neck, the cold in competition with the warmth of his baby's presence near him. He'd known then that she wasn't gone, but he hadn't believed it until three months later, while sitting in his new house, sitting and trying to organise broken thoughts into something cohesive to hold to and continue forward, ignoring the many phone calls from Hope, begging him to forgive her, begging him to come home, threatening him with her life. Didn't she realise that she should be the one dead and buried in the cemetery and not his little girl? He had sat there watching a home movie of Megan's sixth birthday party, his happy little girl running, screaming with laughter as he had chased her around the garden with cake, caught her and covered her in the sticky substance, her laughter giving way to hysterics as their faithful dog , Megan's faithful dog, had licked her clean and given chase once again around the garden. That dog had loved her as much as Thomas had, he'd made sure that Denny had been buried with is daughter, even in death the two would be together. Hope had made sure of that.

That night he'd heard a tapping on the window, a cold wind through the house, a whisper in his ear.

_Daddy help me, Daddy I'm stuck, I can't get out._

Sitting up straight Thomas had strained his ears, the cold blew through the house again and rested on his hand, his hand holding the empty whiskey glass, had it not been for the frosting appearing on the outside he would have sworn the alcohol was playing tricks on his mind. Small finger prints appeared, a transparent hand wrapped it's tiny fingers around his own.

_Daddy help me, I don't want to be dead. Am I really dead Daddy?_

"Oh baby, oh my sweet sweet baby"

_Daddy why are you crying?_

"Daddy misses you baby, he really does"

_Why?_

"Mummy took you to the angels, oh baby Mummy took you away from me"

_But I'm here Daddy , I'm right here._

Thomas had shaken himself and stood, determined to make his way to the sanctuary of sleep and the absence of pain, even if it was just for a few short hours. He was sure it was the whiskey playing games with him. Until he saw her, standing between him and the stairs.

"Megan?"

_Yes Daddy?_

"Megan? Is that really you?"

_Who else would it be silly?_

Her laughter was music to his ears, soothing the ache in his soul, dousing the flames with a liquid so sweet and pure he was powerless to resist.

She'd stayed with him, through all those months, they'd played together, they'd slept side by side, kept each other company.

As the days past Thomas had begun to look into ways to make it right, to bring her back, to make her whole again, make her his. His search had led him to a backwater town in Louisiana, where an old medicine man had instructed him on ways to keep her with him, keep his daughter close and forever young. But it hadn't worked, not as it should have. He'd done everything right, of that he was sure. They had been so excited as the last piece of the puzzle was placed on the table in the small back room , there they had waited, side by side, transparent hand tracing cold lines across his warm, pulse ridden palm.

_Daddy? I don't feel no different. When's it going to work?_

"Soon Baby"

_Daddy it's not working, Daddy it's not fair! I want to live ! DADDY MAKE ME LIVE!_

As his only child had broken down in hysterical sobs Thomas had reached forward to grab her, for a fleeting second he felt her hand on his, actually felt it, then it was gone, replaced by the cold feeling of small fingers on his skin. As he reached forward again, hoping for another feel of his child, he felt tears tracing their way down his face, melting into his skin, some escaping and dropping onto the floor below, he looked at the blackness of the tears and his heart constricted. He gasped and fell forward, fingers clenched in his t-shirt, desperately trying to stop the pain as his heart shrank a size but beat all the more faster.

_Daddy? What's wrong? DADDY WHAT'S WRONG?_

"It's ok baby, Daddy's ok, he just needs a second"

The pain began to recede but Thomas clung to the floor as his vision swam, his veins began to bulge through his skin, the black tears of soot tracing more lines across his being.

He took a deep breath and willed the feeling away. After what seemed like hours he opened his eyes, Megan was crouched away from him, her small hands hiding her face, yet through the fingers she watched him, fearful in what she saw.

Daddy was black, covered in soot, Daddy looked like Denny, he'd gone from gold to black and she didn't know why. He'd been gold but when Mummy drove the car, yelling at her to stop crying and be a good girl, he'd been covered in flames and had gone black.

_Daddy why are you black? Are you like Denny now? Like me?_

"I…I don't know baby, I don't think so, something went wrong, Daddy was trying to make it right but…I don't know baby. Oh baby don't cry, don't cry sweetpea, Daddy's going to make it right"

_NO! No you can't , I'm dead aren't I Daddy? Why aren't there angels? Daddy where are my angels? Where's the baby like in the picture at Grandma's? Daddy why didn't Mummy love me?_

Thomas stopped shaking, stopped his panic and felt the pain evaporate. Hope, Hope had done this to them, she'd caused this, she'd wanted to kill herself yet had killed Megan instead, and what was he left with? The ghost of a child, nothing more than a mist. He couldn't even hold her, couldn't feel her breath on his neck as he sung her to sleep at night, couldn't feel her tiny feet as they entwined with his, couldn't feel anything. She'd wanted to die, she wants to die, she has to die.

"Baby, come with Daddy, we need to go see Mummy"

_But I'm scared of Mummy_

"She can't hurt you anymore sweetpea, but we need to talk to her"

_Teach her a lesson, teach her it's not nice to hurt people_

"Yes baby"

_Why did mummy get to live? She died, she should have stayed dead._

"And this time she will baby, this time she will"

They stood outside Hope's house, stood outside and watched as she lived, as she breathed, as she walked and felt and touched. Megan had drifted over to the window, knocked and drifted out of view as Hope had run to see who it was.

The second night Megan had stood in the street, had allowed Hope to run to her, had watched as Mummy fell to her knee's, sobbing and crying and saying how sorry she was.

The third night Megan had run down the street, Mummy running in front of her, screaming at her, telling her she was dead. Was she dead? Daddy said that until there were angels that she was still his.

The fourth night Megan had gone into the house and with her little knife had cut Hope's arm, had awoken her mother from her fitful, valium induced sleep and led her out into the street, Thomas had stood before her, his plan was to send her insane, she wanted to die? Then she would do, he'd watched as she walked slowly toward him, her blood dripping slowly down her arm from the gash , he'd seethed with anger, seeing this woman living and breathing while his daughter was dead, as his anger grew the tears of soot increased, bled out from his eyes and took flight into the night sky, tracing a path through the air and entering Hope through the cut on her arm, her body held it's stance yet her eyes betrayed her fear and panic as the blackness coursed through her veins, bulging in the skin and constricting her heart. The pain was immense, she had no control over her body, over her sounds yet inside she was begging for the end. If this was how it was to be then she'd go, she deserved to be punished, she deserved to be killed. As the blackness engulfed her body a white light surrounded her and seeped into every pour, she watched in horror as her fingers began to turn in on themselves, the nails pulling back and bunching up under the fingers, her bones snapping and crumbling into tiny pieces inside her body, her ribs folding in on themselves and impaling her organs, the tissue, the muscle, the skin all constricting and shrinking, the last thing to go were her eyes, her eyes which held the triumphant looks of her husband and daughter, and then they too were taken by the light and taken by the soot until all that remained of her was her dead daughter and two black footprints on the street.

A knock at the door brought Thomas back to the present. He shook himself of the memory and walked to the top of the stairs, two figures could be seen through the opaque glass of the front door, Megan hid behind the door to her room, her small hands grasping wood she couldn't feel.

_What's that? Who's here?_

"I don't know baby, but you stay here until I say it's ok?"

_Ok Daddy. I'll be a good girl I promise_

"That's my sweetpea"

Thomas opened the front door and greeted the two men before him with a false smile.

"Can I help you?"

"We're with the FBI Sir, I'm Agent DeVille this is Agent Michaels, we need to ask you some questions about your wife"

"I'm not married"

"Ex Wife then. Can we come in?"

Thomas regarded the Agent, stole a look behind at the taller of the two and reluctantly beckoned them inside.

"What is it you want?"

"Just a few routine questions regarding your wife, ex wife's, disappearance. That's all"

"I'm not sure what I can tell you, I hadn't seen her in so long I doubt I have anything useful to say"

Sam sat down and scanned the room as Dean spoke to Thomas, the house felt closed off, as if the windows and doors were kept tightly shut. There were no pictures on the walls or ornaments of any kind, the whole place seemed desolate, but then that was how it felt to lose someone, Sam knew that all too well. He resisted the urge to smirk as Dean said no to coffee. How would he feel toward a woman who had killed his daughter? Sam wasn't sure that he would act rationally. To think that a mother killed her daughter, it wasn't a far stretch to imagine the father wanting to kill the mother.

"So you hadn't heard from her since you told her you'd get a restraining warrant?"

"That's right, she kept calling, wouldn't stop."

Dean nodded and then turned to Sam, flicked his eyes and turned back to Thomas.

"I'm sorry sir, but may I use your bathroom?"

Thomas caught his panic before it had a chance to manifest across his features. He couldn't arouse suspicion, couldn't have their work stopped before it had really begun. He knew he had to trust that Megan would remain hidden. His good, obedient, beautiful little girl.

"Sure, up the stairs, first door on the right"

"Thank you sir"

Dean stood and left as Sam began to ask more questions about Hope's state of mind.

He slowly climbed the stairs while pulling the EMF meter from his pocket, the device instantly came to life and was quickly switched off before Thomas heard the sound from the living room.

Yup, definitely something in this house.

Slowly he made his way into each room, starting with the front bedroom, bare except for the bed and a wardrobe. This guy was minimalist. Into the second bedroom and Dean found a room full of toys.

Considering how lacking in character and personal touch the rest of the house was this room took him by surprise, there were toys of every description strewn across the floor, a bunk bed up against one wall and fluffy toys across the mattress. The wallpaper was classic Disney, Donald and Mickey across the walls, if it wasn't for the dust that coated each toy and teddy bear Dean would have believed that a child spent every day in here playing happily.

He made his way back to the hall and walked toward the back room, pushing the door open slightly he peered around into the blackness, the window had been painted to stop any light from entering, he felt around the wall for a switch and then stood back as the table came into view. Across the entire expanse were vials of blood, pictures of a child smiling, a lock of hair, symbols and incantations written into the wood, crosses with carvings no priest would allow and a small handprint on each corner of the surface. Standing by the table was a transparent little girl, regarding him with a look of intrigue.

_Who are you?_

"I'm Dean, are you Megan?"

_How do you know my name? _She asked shyly, looking down and swaying on her feet.

"I know your Daddy"

_No you don't_

"What are you doing up here? Why don't you come down and talk with us?"

Dean put on his best I'm-a-friendly-stranger-face and motioned toward the door.

_I can't_

"Why not?"

_Not allowed._

"I'm sure just this once it would be alright"

_Daddy will get mad at you_

"Why?"

_You should be dead._

Dean's breath caught in his throat as a cold seeped into his bones.

"What?"

_You, you died didn't you? You should be dead. Why aren't you dead?_

"I guess it wasn't my time"

_It will be_

Crap, double crap with a side of shit. Dean was in trouble and he knew it. He smiled and backed slowly out of the room, the ghost of Megan didn't advance, didn't move an inch, she just stood there, smiling at him. His heart beat quickened and he suddenly felt an urge to run screaming from the house.

He quickly made his way down the stairs and back into the living room.

"Well I guess we've taken up enough of your time sir"

Sam was about to argue that they had more questions when he caught the look in Dean's eyes, the paleness of his face. He was freaked. Dean was freaked and needed to leave the house.

"Yeah, erm… we've taken more than enough of your time sir, thanks for all your help"

"No bother, like I said, I hadn't seen her in so long, I can't tell you anything that would help"

As they walked down the steps Dean's pace quickened and Sam had to almost run to catch up, they drove down the street in silence. Sam glancing at Dean who seemed to be lost in thought, his face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat even though he was shivering visibly and his fingers gripped the wheel with a vice like strength. Suddenly he veered the car over to the side, ignoring the shouts and horns of the other drivers.

They sat in the idling car by the side of the street in silence, the only noise Dean's breathing that he was still fighting to control.

"Dean?"

He stared ahead, he stared ahead and tried to rid himself of the feeling of cold seeping through his bones and into his heart.

"Dean" Forceful this time, little brother was scared. But Dean couldn't look at him, why hadn't he told him? Why hadn't he said? He'd suspected but having your suspicions confirmed by a dead little girl kinda freaked a guy out.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What?" Sam turned in his seat to give his brother his full attention.

"Why didn't you tell me I died?"

Sam's face scrunched for a second, then it hit him like a semi at full speed.

"What did she say to you?"

"Not much, some stuff about her Daddy being mad and me being dead soon, the usual"

"Dean"

"Sam why didn't you tell me?"

"What was the point? Why did you need to know?"

Dean looked at Sam for the first time and felt his anger dissipate, his face relaxed a little. Sam was right, what was the point of him knowing, but still, it was a pretty major thing to not mention.

"You should have said"

"When? When should I have told you that your heart stopped while we waited for the paramedics? That they had to shock you back? Should I have said it while you were in the hospital or while we were driving to Nebraska? Or should I have mentioned it as we left there? Dean it doesn't matter, it's not something you needed to know and to be honest it wasn't something I wanted to admit"

Dean turned to Sam, his Sammy, he tried to protect him against so much, he began to realise why Sam hadn't said, he'd come so close to being alone, they still didn't know where Dad was and Sam had come close to losing Dean, had lost him in fact. Only he'd come back, been brought back, saved , twice.

"Sorry man, it's just, it was a bit of a shock hearing it come from a dead girl"

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry too"

"I really died?"

"Your heart stopped as the paramedics arrived and they pushed me out of the way while they massaged your heart and then shocked you back, it took two goes you know. I've never been so scared" Sam willed his voice to not break, to stay strong for Dean while big brother had his freak out, but the welling of his eyes betrayed him.

"God Sam I'm sorry"

"It wasn't your fault. Just, never do that again ok?"

"Yeah, ok"

The brothers both laughed as the tension began to melt away slightly.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"We just had another moment"

"Oh for the love of god"

Dean steered the car back onto the main street and headed toward Shelley's house.

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Thank you so much for your support with this story, you guys are the greatest. Still a way to go yet so don't stop now!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"I've heard of Thomas Parker, sure, I read the papers, I remember the story, but I've never met the man. What would he want with me?"

Shelley ran a hand through her dark hair and massaged her neck, considering all that she'd been through in her life , this had to be the weirdest week ever. Here were these two men telling her that she was a target of a man and his dead child. Actually, weird wasn't a strong enough word.

"We think he's targeting people who had near death experiences, who he thinks should have died" Sam took another sip of his coffee.

"So he's getting revenge on innocent people? I guess I can't blame him"

Dean looked up from his place at the end of the kitchen counter, coffee paused on it's way toward his lips.

"It's not fair someone should live while someone else suffers"

Shelley smiled sadly and nodded. "If I had a child, who had been taken in that way, I think I'd feel pretty angry about it, and to think the people that should have died, who's time was maybe up, were brought back, some against their will, well, I can understand. It's like a woman who can't get pregnant having to listen to stories of abortions."

"Either way no one has the right to play god" Sam said this forcefully, toward Dean. He knew his brother had been affected more than he let on after the events in Nebraska, but hearing him say those words scared Sam. Almost as much as Dean's indecision about his right to live, Sam knew Dean hadn't fought the reaper, he'd seen the resignation and guilt in his brother's eyes as they had driven back to the motel. That night after Layla had visited Dean had been all the more quiet, the guilt flowing from him in waves, each one crashing into Sam with a force enough to send him back across the room for fear of startling his brother into an action they'd never recover from.

But his brother had recovered, he'd done the only thing Dean Winchester knew how, he'd buried his feelings deep, smiled to Sam and then walked forward toward the next hunt. But did the next hunt have to have been this one? Of all the things to have to face, survivors guilt seemed to seep through ever pore of this gig. Each of the victims had been brought back from the brink, each one, according to family members had felt guilty about the fact, had questioned whether they should have lived or not. It made sense in a way that Thomas and Megan would target failed suicides, that was something that Sam could understand, these people had wanted to die, and if some of the legends were true then for every death there was life, which in turn meant for every life brought back another was extinguished, but to target people who had no control over their recovery? Out of the twelve accounts seven had been people who had almost died in accidents, heart attacks and operations. Sam watched as Shelley shivered again, she was wearing a jumper and a jacket and still she shivered. His blood ran cold as he watched Dean do the same. The little girl had said his time would come, was he a target now? Pushing those thoughts aside Sam cleared his throat and leaned toward Shelley.

"We want to stay here tonight, if that's ok, we can help, we want to help"

"To tell you the truth, I don't want to be here, they know I'm here and honestly I've never felt as unsafe as I do right now" She laughed sadly, regarded the brothers and took a deep breath, "For years I've wanted to end it all, but was never sure when the right time would be, but it was always an option, you know? I'd find reasons to live for the day, lurching from hour to hour, any quick fix would do, a TV show, a movie I wanted to see, feeding Tabitha, anything to get through. My family left me a long time ago, my mother was so angry when she found out that I'd tried to kill myself that she disowned me, great logic don't you think? But now, now that the option is here, I don't want it."

"Because it's not your decision?"

"Right, this isn't my choice, I don't want to die, not today, not tomorrow. When I do decide it will be on my terms. This isn't them"

Dean nodded his understanding, he'd felt a similar way while lying in the hospital bed, alone, waiting to die. He'd always thought he'd go out in a blaze of glory, fire, bullets and dead demons, not laying in a bed with barely enough energy to sit himself up, waiting to die. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. His terms or no terms.

Sam gathered up their mugs and placed them in the sink. He'd had enough of this conversation, these two seemed to understand each other on a level that scared him.

"Right then, you come with us. Get your stuff, we'll leave in half an hour"

XXXXXXXXXX

As Shelley ran through her house gathering her overnight bag and clothes, Megan watched from the window by the kitchen, watched the two men, watched the man that should be dead.

Dusk had descended, laying it's touch across the sky and snuffing the life of the sun into memory. Megan moved from the window in the kitchen to the open front door, Shelley had run across the street to give Tabitha over to the care of her neighbour. The cat had been greatly put out until she had smelled the tuna Maude put down for her, then she made herself right at home.

As Shelley crossed the street back to her house a cold chill ran through her bones, the hair on her arms and neck stood alert and wary, she quickened her pace, the feeling of being watched had trebled and she was anxious to get as far away from the house as she could. A motel hadn't been her first choice, but right now she didn't care.

Walking through the hallway she became aware of a light in the kitchen, by the back doors that led out into her garden, so full of plants and trees that she had taken to planting her yearly memorial's in the front garden. She could hear Sam upstairs, his footsteps checking the house room to room to make sure it was secure so that when she returned, and they assured her she would, everything would be as she had left it. She walked into the living room, past the mauve couch and chair, into the kitchen, pausing by the counter and standing face to face with a shimmering little girl. She looked so innocent, she looked so passive. Her dress billowed in a wind that breezed around her small body. Shelley stifled a cry as she realised the little girl was crying, staring at her with helpless, pleading eyes, lines of soot tracing their way down her cheeks, her auburn hair darkened as the soot began to infest her body, her veins pumping with the burnt substance. She smiled sadly at Shelley and then bared her teeth in a growl, walking forward slowly, menacingly.

Dean came in from loading the Impala with Shelley's bags and immediately ran to the kitchen as he heard her cry out, heard a child's laughter, felt a chill run it's icy fingers across his back as his senses became hyper alert.

Shelley backed up, knocked into the counter and almost screamed as she felt hands clasp her shoulders and pull her even further back, into the living room, putting himself between Shelley and the girl, Dean stepped forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture.

"Hey Megan, hey, remember me?"

_You should move, it's not your turn, not yet_

"I can't do that Megan, I can't let you hurt her, she's done nothing wrong"

_Why am I dead? Do you know? _

She asked with such a broken voice that immediately both Shelley and Dean felt a pang of guilt course through their heart's. She was just a little girl, a little girl who didn't understand why what happened to her had happened. She just wanted to live, to play, to make friends, but that had all been taken away from her.

She was so innocent in her violence.

Dean stepped forward again but realised his mistake as the wind around Megan began to pick up speed. She backed away, slightly fearful of him, the wind increased and ran it's way through Dean's clothes, through his hair, he felt invisible hands on his back and before he could catch himself he was spun around and thrown through the glass doors that led to the garden.

Shelley screamed, loudly and forcefully as she watched Dean being picked up like a rag doll and tossed outside, the sound of the glass breaking shattered her panic and she ran forward, Megan laughed as she vanished outside, the echo's of her child giggles faded slowly , too slowly, Shelley swore that for hours after she could still hear that child, still hear her laughing at them.

Sam ran down the stairs the second the sound of breaking glass and screams reached him, he skipped the last few steps, clung to the wall and swung himself into the living room, made his way directly to the source of the sound and almost ran into Shelley as she carefully picked her way through the glass to get to Dean. Sam pulled her back before she cut herself on the jagged edges strewn across the floor.

He walked carefully forward, Dean was spread-eagled on his back, his feet lay a few inches from the last piece of glass in the doorway, the jagged edges looked frighteningly capable of severing veins, Sam thanked every god he could that his brother hadn't landed on the edge.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Dean you ok man?"

"No, not really"

"Ok, hang on a sec"

Sam walked to his side and crouched down, small rivulets of blood made their way down the left side of Dean's head, his shirt was pulled to the side, caught on a piece of glass by his right side, Sam gently cupped Dean's head and using his other arm pulled his sibling into a sitting position. Dean had been too scared to move himself, he knew he'd been caught by several pieces of glass, could feel them rubbing and grinding into his back, he allowed Sam to pull him forward, tried to contain the groan of pain, settled for hissing instead. He was breathing heavily and his body was laced in sweat, he was pretty sure he was shaking as well but the pain seemed to dull his other senses.

"Can you stand up? We need to get you into the kitchen"

"Uh huh"

Dean braced himself as he felt Sam's arms hook under his own, pulling him slowly to his feet and steadying him as the ground shifted and his legs turned to jelly. He let his head fall forward onto Sam's shoulder, allowed little brother to take his weight while he waited for the dizzy spell to dissipate. Sam patiently held onto him, careful to not touch his back, he could feel Dean's quick breathes against his neck, could feel him swallowing against the need to either throw up or pass out. Sam hoped that neither would win. Dean pushed away slightly and Sam took that as his sign to lead his brother forward.

Shelley stepped aside as Sam lowered Dean onto the seat by the counter in the kitchen, She put a glass of water to his lips, enticing him to drink, he hadn't realised how dry his mouth was, whether from facing that freaky ass child again or from his dive through the glass.

Sam pulled the shirt away from Dean, pulled his arms from the material and carefully peeled the rest off of his back, Dean frowned as the green shirt fell to the ground. Dammit he'd loved that shirt.

"Shelley, have you got any scissors? I need to cut his t-shirt off"

"Shouldn't we leave before she comes back?"

Sam took the scissors and cut the cloth away, revealing the full extent of the cuts and gashes across his brothers back.

"I don't think so, I think she's caused enough damage tonight. Dean? Man we need to get you to the hospital"

"Can't you do it?"

"Sorry dude but you're gonna need checking over and then some stitches"

Dean was leaning forward, the feel of the cotton being pulled from the skin it had imbedded itself within had upped his nausea and he wasn't entirely sure what was up or down, whether he was standing or laying. As he slumped further forward Shelley rounded him and held onto his arms, he felt his head fall forward onto her breast, felt the slap of a hand on his arm as Sam caught the smile that played across his lips.

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So hands up who'dlike to hold a hurt Dean? There's one for each of you i promise!

Thanks again to all those who read and especially to those that review XXX


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The waiting room at the hospital was thankfully devoid of people, most seemed to have taken to sitting in the hall by the coffee machine instead of sitting in the small area where a replayed baseball game was in full swing. They'd been waiting an hour.

Sam ran a relieved hand through his hair and tried to make himself more comfortable. They'd used towels at Shelley's to stem the blood flow from the worst of the gashes, Sam carefully guiding Dean out to the Impala, helping him to sit in the car, although he'd adamantly refused to sit in the back, opting instead for the front seat, he leant forward and rested his head on the dash, for a fleeting second Sam was sure he was going to insist he could drive. He'd wrapped a blanket around Dean's bare shoulders and held the door open for Shelley to climb into the back, she positioned herself in the middle of the seats and kept a steadying hand on Dean's arm.

When they'd arrived they'd pretty much told the truth, Dean had fallen through glass doors, he'd been helped onto a gurney and wheeled away. Now they were just waiting for him to be stitched up, no nerve damage thank god, one nasty gash had cut through muscle and would require deeper stitches, but all in all big brother's luck had held. Although he was going to be in a lot of pain. The cuts and gashes crossed his back and shoulders, the back of his hands and his forearms, all covered with small cuts that had bled freely. Only a few on his back would require stitching, but still, it had been a lucky escape.

"Sam I'm so sorry, she just appeared there, I didn't know what to do"

"There was nothing you could do Shelley, honestly, stop worrying. Dean's gonna be fine and we're going to figure this out"

"You don't sound so sure" She smiled sadly at him, saw the look in his eyes and knew he was still in shock over seeing his brother laying in the broken glass coated with his blood.

"What happens next? What did the others see?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said they all saw the little girl, saw her in the street, saw them chase her, then what?"

"Shelley"

"Sam tell me"

"The next night they disappear"

"So I have one more day left"

"That's not what I said"

"It's ok, I know, you're going to fix this, I heard you"

"I'm sorry this has happened to you"

"You know, I'm not"

Sam looked up at her, she had a resolve in her eyes that he hadn't seen before.

"You're not?"

"No, do you know these last years I've been running out of things to get up for, my list dwindled until all it really included was feeding the cat, but this, this nightmare, whatever you want to call it, I now know I don't want to die. I think I've been living in the illusion that it was always an option so that I didn't have to face the fear of actually going out and living my life. It was so much easier just believing in the depression, believing there was nothing I could do, clinging to small reasons to live, but now, now I'm faced with an impending death, I don't want to , I want to live, before I was barely living, I was a shadow of the person I wanted to be, easily blinded by the light but now, I feel whole, I know it's weird, I've never been so scared in my life, but I feel like I want so much more, I suddenly have things in mind I want to do, weird that don't you think?"

"No, I don't think that's weird at all."

"Mr Jagger?"

Sam looked up into the eyes of the Doctor, he nodded and stood, Shelley standing with him.

"Your brother is going to be just fine, we want to keep him here for another hour, just to make sure he has no reaction to the antibiotics and painkillers and then you can be on your way, he'll need to rest though"

"How bad is it?" Shelley's eyes held a compassion that warmed Sam's heart.

"Well there's quite a few gashes, the bad one that I told you about required the muscle to be stitched, that one is just over his right kidney, he was lucky, the others are superficial but nonetheless painful, I'm going to prescribe a painkiller for him, it'll help alleviate some of the discomfort, he's not to get the wounds wet for a week, and he'll probably find driving and lifting almost impossible, it's best he doesn't tear those stitches, although I'm pretty sure the nurses won't mind seeing him again."

"My brother likes nurses"

"That I could tell, he had them fawning all over him."

"Can we sit with him until he's released?"

"Of course, just follow me"

XXXXXXXXXX

"So you see, the pulse points in a woman's wrist can carry a feeling all the way through to her toes, and vice versa"

"I never knew that"

"I could teach you so much sweetheart"

Sam cleared his throat loudly as he and Shelley entered the examination room. Dean was laying on his front, his back covered with gauze, a young nurse was sat beside him, cleaning a small cut on his knuckles. He had her wrist in his hand and was running his thumb back and forth across the skin.

"Mindy, I think you're needed in triage" The Doctor smiled at the young nurse, as he turned to leave he quietly said to Sam "He's on a pretty strong painkiller at the moment so he might appear a little, you know, happy"

"Doc I think that's probably more to do with the perky nurses you have than the drugs"

The Doctor laughed and followed Mindy out to the reception desk. Shelley stood by the bottom of the bed as Sam sat down on Mindy's chair and rested his hand on the only part of his brother's shoulder not covered in gauze.

"You ok?"

"Super Sammy, I'm just super"

"You get that nurses phone number?"

"Dude, I am injured here, what do you take me for?"

Sam waited patiently for Dean to cave.

"Yeah I did" He smiled broadly and Sam was struck by the thought that Dean really was as high as a kite, he usually had a strong resistance to painkillers but it seemed the Doc had spotted that and upped the dosage.

Dean turned his head and smiled drunkenly at Shelley.

"You ok?"

"Yeah Dean I'm fine, it's me who should be asking you that"

"I'm ok, it's nothing, normal day at the office"

"You usually go for a flight through windows?"

"Sammy are we flying?"

"What Dean?"

"She said flight man, dude you know I hate flying" Dean whispered toward his brother, the drugs impairing his hearing and his mind had made the connection to his fear before he could even consider that's not what Shelley had meant.

"We're not getting on a plane Dean, it's ok"

"Good, cos I ain't getting on another of those bastards"

Sam smiled apologetically to Shelley, "He hates flying you know"

"Well, he should try to stay on his feet then"

Shelley rubbed Dean's ankle and watched as his eyes grew heavy and his face relaxed.

"Ssssammy?"

"Yeah bro?"

"No planes"

"No planes man, I promise"

"S'Gd Sammy"

XXXXXXXXX

Sam watched amused as Mindy helped Dean into a white t-shirt, Shelley helped him put on his shoes and the Doctor stood by Sam with a bemused expression on his face. Dean was making every effort to help , in the sense that he was intent on getting himself as close to these women as he could, he leaned to his left as Shelley on his right pulled on his shoe, accidentally bumping into Mindy's ample bosom, he smiled apologetically and moved to his right, accidentally bumping into Shelley.

"Please take him home"

"No problem Doc, thanks for your help"

"My pleasure, take care now Dean. Mindy, I need you in triage"

"Thanks Doc" Dean stood up carefully, swaying only slightly and walked forward with Mindy at his side. She smiled at Sam as she ran her hand across Dean's butt, his smirk at his brother let him know exactly what was happening.

"MINDY! TRIAGE ! NOW!"

"Coming! See you soon Dean?"

"Oh I hope so"

"You should be ashamed you know that?"

"Why? Shelley I've done nothing wrong, I'm injured for god's sakes"

"I saw where your hand was"

Dean smiled and licked his lips, quirked an eyebrow and laughed as Shelley playfully slapped his ass and followed Sam out to the car.

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Thank you again for your wonderful reviews!

So, who'd like to be on the left of Dean, and who'd like to be on the right?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Once settled at the motel, Dean laying on his front on one bed, Shelley asleep on her side on the other, Sam ran through the information they had uncovered, searching as many reports on Thomas Parker as he could, the light from the laptop in the dark room causing his eyes to play tricks on him every time he looked up

The lights dancing across his vision like firefly's on water, playing across the surface until each one was indistinguishable from the other. It had been a hell of a day, it had been a hell of a month, one month, one month since Nebraska and Dean was already injured again. He was going to have words with his brother and his need to save everyone from everything all the time.

Sam searched all the databases he could, trying to find where little Megan had been buried, he was pretty sure the father was connected in more ways though, the black alter in the house spoke of magic's greater than just keeping the spirit of a child hanging around. But still, getting rid of her spirit was a start, they only had one more day if the pattern was true enough to go by, and he was all the more sure now that Dean was a target, they'd arrived at the motel and Shelley had gone to take a shower, Sam helped Dean to the small table by the window, the light from the moon casting a pale glow across his brother's already pale features. Dean had nodded his thanks and Sam had turned back out to the car to grab the rest of Shelley's bags, as he walked back in Dean was stood upright, backing slowly away from the window. If Sam thought him pale before there was no mistaking the lack of pallor now.

"Dean?"

"She tapped on the window Sam, I saw her, saw her hand print on the glass"

"Crap"

"You're telling me"

Sam glanced over at his sleeping brother and sighed, they needed to end this before Dean ran out of lives, he was marked, they'd been naïve to think Nebraska wouldn't come around to bite them on the ass. As he searched through the list of cemeteries and occupants his eyes caught a headline that caused his heart to take on a whole new ache.

Great, just great, couldn't they catch a break, just once?

He stretched and turned the computer off, walked to the bed where Dean slept and carefully lowered himself down next to his brother, jostling the bed only minimally, Dean moaned slightly in his sleep, his head facing Sam, he sighed and relaxed as his breathing evened out once again. Laying back Sam willed his mind to quieten, willed the thoughts to slow down and take stock, willed sleep to release him from the hunt that seemed intent on testing their resolve at every turn.

XXXXXXXXXX

Coffee, the unmistakeable smell of coffee, that was Dean's first thought, then the pain in his back began to break through his delight at the smell of caffeine, it was around this time that the realisation that he wasn't alone in the bed hit him square in the pesqueeter.

What the hell?

He slowly opened his eyes and got a look at Sam, fast asleep with his head turned toward Dean, asleep on his back, almost like little brother was mocking the injured man.

Why the hell was he in Dean's bed? He hadn't done that since he was ten and had accidentally fired off a shot into the closet thinking it was haunted, Dad had comforted Sammy but then tore Dean a new one for not keeping an eye on his little brother, Sam had felt so guilty that night that he'd climbed into Dean's bed by way of apology and kept his sulking brother company.

And where the hell had the coffee smell come from?

Gathering his strength for the impending pain, Dean slowly rolled his head toward the other bed, his eyes falling onto the largest cup of coffee he'd ever seen, then onto Shelley nursing her own steaming beverage, sat crossed legged on the other bed smiling at him.

"Hey"

"Hey"

"How do you feel?"

"I'm ok"

"Really?"

"Ok it hurts a little"

"I'd imagine it to hurt a lot"

"It will when I have to get up"

"I think it's best you stay where you are for now don't you"

"Can't"

"Why?"

"Need to pee"

Shelley laughed quietly and leaned forward, hooking her arm under Dean's and gently helping him to raise up off the bed and sit on the edge, his face was covered in sweat by the time he was upright, she handed him the coffee and sat back opposite him. Sam barely moved. Dean turned to look at him, began to turn, but then settled for leaning, his brother was fast asleep, his hand over his heart while the other dangled off the bed. He faced back around to Shelley and nodded his thanks as he took a long savouring drink of the warm liquid, he shivered despite himself.

"Cold?"

"Yeah, you?" He motioned toward her jumper and jacket.

"Yeah, have been for a few days now, guess we share that in common"

"Guess we do"

"What do we do now?"

"Now? Now I pee, then we talk"

Gingerly making his way back to the bed, Dean sat down carefully, but forcefully enough to purposefully wake Sam.

"Morning sleeping beauty"

"Hey"

"Sleep ok?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Would have done, but there was this big slug next to me drooling and snoring all night"

"Dude I don't drool"

"But you do snore"

"I… no"

Shelley laughed and handed Sam his own large cup of coffee.

"Thanks Shelley, you sleep ok?"

"Yeah I did, was kinda nice being out of the house for a change"

"You Dean?"

"Me what?"

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah, I think I was out for the count the second I laid down. Good drugs"

"You need to eat, you have painkillers and antibiotics to take"

"I will Francis, as soon as I've finished my coffee I'll go across to the diner and pick us up something"

"Dean, no! You need to take it easy, you heard what the Doctor said about tearing stitches"

"Dude chill, it's just across the street"

"Dean you're supposed to stay in bed today"

"Well if you hadn't noticed we're kind of on a deadline so maybe lazing around isn't the wisest idea at the moment"

"Dean"

"Sam"

"I'll go, you too carry on with your pissing contest, if you need it there's also a tape measure in my bag somewhere, I'll be back soon with breakfast"

Shelley left the two brothers staring each other down, once she'd closed the door they both allowed themselves to laugh and relax.

"Tape measure?"

"Dean you know I'm taller than you"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I have bigger hands as well"

"Shut up bitch"

"Jerk"

Carefully sitting around on the bed Dean faced Sam and tried to hide the grimace of pain that the movement caused to course through his body. He had to admit staying in bed was an enticing idea, but they didn't have the time, they both knew that. This thing needed to be finished today, for Shelley.

"So what did you find out last night?"

"Well, seems salting and burning the body is going to be more difficult than we first thought."

"Why?" Asked Dean slowly.

"The body was stolen from the cemetery"

"What?"

"Yep, there's a report that said someone snuck in and desecrated the grave, took the body, they have no idea who but it happened about six months after Megan was killed."

"Thomas?"

"Thomas"

"What does he want with her body?"

"Well I did some more checking, seems there's an old school voodoo ritual that can bind a living person to their dead loved one, causing both to hover between life and death"

"What the hell would he want to do that for?"

"Seems that if this is done correctly the two would be able to touch each other, hold each other and live like they were both alive"

"But?"

"But it also means the fate of one is the fate of the other"

"So we kill Megan we kill Thomas"

"Exactly"

"So we kill his baby and we kill the father who was just trying to save her"

"Dean, come on man, his guilt has twisted him, he's using this power against innocent people"

"I know, but man, you can understand why"

"Yeah"

Dean smirked as he turned toward Sam.

"Babe's got the power"

"What power?"

"The power of Voodoo"

Sam smirked , contained his laughter and carried on.

"Who do?"

"You do"

"Do what?"

"Remind me of the babe"

Shelley walked back in with bacon and egg bagels to the sound of the two brothers laughing hysterically, Sam hunched forward holding his belly and Dean attempting to stay upright against the pain in his back from the laughing.

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So, who knows where those last lines came from? Theres a Dean and Sam cookie for anyone who guesses right!


	11. Chapter 11

The answer to the question yesterday was Labyrinth (i love that movie and had that song stuck in my noggin for days!)

Again your reviews are much appreciated and deeply treasured

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Chapter Eleven

Thomas sat in the dark room, sat and watched Megan as she counted her fingers and toes, grinning to him as she counted through all the numbers she knew, looking toward him with hopeful eyes, Daddy needed to be proud of her, she'd made him so sad, so lonely so she needed to make it right, make good. She'd been a bad girl to make Daddy cry, to leave him and go with Mummy was wrong. But Daddy fixed it, he found a way to make it better, but she knew it hadn't worked right and Daddy was in pain. She could feel his ache as if it were her own, his heart beat painfully in his chest and the need to exact revenge seemed to be his only relief against the knowledge that father and daughter still couldn't hold each other, couldn't lay together to watch the Lion King, she always sang along, she knew Daddy liked it when she did that.

Mummy, it had all been Mummy's fault, but she'd seen, she had been punished and sent to her room forever. Megan sighed and watched her father watching her, she missed Denny, why couldn't he have come back as well? Why was it only her? Why wasn't she getting older? Little Lawrence Mackey across the street had grown, he'd gotten taller and bigger and he could do so much more now than when she knew him in life. But she remained the same, never changed, never grew old. She wanted to so badly, to be a big girl, but that wasn't going to happen. Her veins boiled with tiny fire at all the things she couldn't do, all the things her friends went out and enjoyed, while she stayed home with Daddy, Daddy so sad and so lost. He tried to make it better, bought her all the toys she'd ever wanted, but she couldn't play with them.

No fair.

Life sucked.

She smiled at Daddy.

Thomas looked away, he couldn't stare into those dead eyes any longer without his heart breaking. His baby, his little girl, nothing now but a passing shadow. How could he comfort a shadow? Those men, they were here to end it, he knew that, part of him wanted to be stopped, he'd made so many pay for the lives they were granted, granted unfairly, wasted on the old, the youth had to suffer while those that had already had a chance to live and grow up were granted a second try.

How could that be justified.

All he had wanted was the chance to hold his baby girl in his arms, he'd failed at that like he had failed at marriage, failed at protecting Megan from Hope, failed, failed, failed.

And now these two men were there to save the woman. Save her. His empty laugh roused his daughter from her game of counting and she smiled at him again.

Again he turned away.

What had he done? What had he become?

He was doing a job, an important job. He was tipping the balance against those that sat uninvited on the scales of life, those who ate up chance after chance of someone else's happiness.

How dare they.

How dare they mock the dead with their thoughts against living. Call it what you want but those who were brought back from the brink, those that Megan could see in a clearer light than anything else, those people had to pay for cheating death where so many had failed.

It was time, they didn't need to wait for nightfall, she had to pay, before they had a chance to stop them.

XXXXXXXXXX

Shelley looked from Dean, hunched forward on the chair by the table, to Sam, stood by the bed nearest the bathroom. She was sure she'd heard wrong, must have heard wrong, there was no way she had heard right.

"Sorry?"

"We have to find Megan's body, salt her bones and burn them into dust"

She stared at Sam and then turned her attention to Dean.

"Come again?"

"Her spirit, it can't let go, move on until the bones are purified, only then can she cross over"

"Right, and you know this how?" This to Sam.

"It's what we do, what we've done our whole lives, so trust me when I say this will work"

"Which means finding the little girls body, which has been taken from it's grave"

Sam nodded, Dean grunted as he straightened, the drugs Sam had forced down his throat had kicked in but had only dulled the pain, he was fine unless he moved, he kept his eyes away from the inviting warmth and comfort of the bed.

"Where's her body?"

Sam sat down on the bed between Shelley and Dean.

"According to the voodoo myth, the body has to be kept with the alter, from what I can tell that means she's in Thomas's house, so we'll have to go there, find her and end this"

Sam watched as Dean stood and pulled another shirt from the closet, he carefully pulled his arms through and almost managed to hide the grimace as he pulled the shirt around his back, Sam resisted the urge to stand up and help, he knew that would only cause an argument, and a hurt Dean was hell to argue with. He'd been getting colder and colder, Sam had noticed the same in Shelley, although now she permanently shivered despite the jumper, jacket and blanket she had wrapped around her. He guessed that was Megan's way of preparing them for the impending ice of death .

"I'm coming with you"

"No Shelley, you need to stay here with Dean"

"What! No way Sammy, you're not doing this alone"

"And you're hurt, you need to rest Dean"

"Sam you are not doing this without me"

"Dean!"

"SAM!"

Shelley tuned out the brother's argument as another sound made it's way into her consciousness, a soft, low, barely audible sound, almost….almost like, laughing?

Yes, that was it, a child's voice, laughing. The ice in her bones seeped through into her blood stream and she stopped shivering as her organs ceased to function, her heart beat slowed down and her breathing came out in icy wisps, she ignored the two men and stood, made her way out to the parking lot, her feet moving despite her mind screaming at them to stop, to turn around. She paused at the door, looked down and watched in horror as the small hand angled the blade down, sliding through her skin, the blood making a lazy trail down her arm and dripping slowly, so slowly onto the floor, the sound of the liquid against the asphalt like bells resounding within her ears, she wanted to scream, but no sound came out, no noise to be heard, the only betraying emotion seeping through her eyes as she cried silently, knowing this was it, it was over, just as she had realised what life meant, what it meant to live and be free and make choices and face the world standing upright and forward.

Now it was over. She wasn't ready, not yet.

Dean held his hand up against his brother's argument and pointed toward Shelley, opening the door, stepping outside, small droplets of blood leaving a trail on the floor behind her.

Both brothers leapt from the bed but by the time they reached the door Shelley was already all the way over the other side of the parking lot, her feet moving despite her minds protests.

Her eyes sought Dean, even with the distance he could make out her plea's for help, her desperation, her panic, her need to live, to feel, to exist.

As they ran forward Thomas stepped up to Shelley, a blackness from his eyes trailing across the air and snaking it's way into her skin and through her body, as they ran, as if in slow motion caught in a nightmare they'd never awaken from, the men watched as Thomas stood back, Shelley's fingers curled in on themselves, her body blinding them with a white light, her eyes closing in silent resignation to her fate, with an explosion of energy blinding the day from their vision she disappeared from sight. All that was left when their cornea's recovered were two footprints of soot on the floor. The only sign of the horror that had occurred.

Sam stood, mouth agape, oblivious to Dean who had fallen to his knee's beside him. He couldn't move, couldn't look away, the outline of light playing a cruel trick on his eyes as they continued to recover from the blinding radiance, the shadow of Shelley fading as his vision recovered, his hearing came back too suddenly for his body to cope with and he fell to his knee's as the sound of the interstate traffic assaulted his nerves, people driving past, on their way to work, on their way home, on their way anywhere but here, oblivious to the lost soul of Shelley, so cruelly snatched from them before they could reach her, help her, save her.

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Sorry, but it had to happen. I loved Shelley and her character helped me realise a few things , for that i will always love her XXX


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The brothers gathered their things, all that they would need, they weren't going to wait any longer, Dean's anger at what they had witnessed, coupled with Sam's anger and barely contained panic for his brother, between them one look had passed and they had pulled themselves from the ground, walked determinedly into the room and began gathering all the supplies they would need. No word was spoken, no words were needed.

This ended. Today.

The drive toward Thomas Parker's house was made in silence until Sam could take it no longer.

"We need a plan"

"We go in, I distract them , you find her bones, we kill them, we leave"

"Dean"

"No Sammy, this stops, any how, any way"

"I know, that's not what I was going to say"

Dean stole a glance from his place in the passenger seat at his baby brother, Sam wore his I'm-with-you-all-the-way-face behind emotion clouded eyes.

"If Shelley taught us anything, it's that we need to live, to make it out of this, both of us, alive and together"

"I know"

"Yeah?"

"Dude do you think I have a death wish?"

Sam's silence answered for him.

"Seriously?"

"Sometimes, it's not that I think it's a death wish, it's more of a hero complex"

"What does that mean?"

"I know you want to save everyone, even if it means sacrificing yourself, but I just need you to know that I need you so don't go in there guns blazing and leave your self preservation at the door ok?"

"Sam, I'm not going to die like that man"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

They both heard the words but neither listened with the determination they pretended. The seething anger of what they had witnessed was pulsing from Dean with every beat of his heart. Sam knew the look in his eyes, the need to make it right, to ease the guilt by killing the evil son-of-a-bitch that had stolen a life that didn't belong to him. His need to protect the victims, whether alive or dead was a trait Sam admired, but feared. He never knew just how far Dean would go to make things right for someone, to save someone. His fears had almost been realised in Nebraska, he was sure Dean would have offered his life willingly to save Layla, he'd denied it but Sam saw the truth in his eyes.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thomas placed his daughter's tiny knife back in it's place at the alter, his alter to her, a place for him to worship, to adore, to remember, to give and feel and try to make it right. The alter to which he would lay his life if it meant his baby girl lived.

He turned and gathered her in his arms, for a short time after a soul was taken they had the strength to hold each other, feel each other, embrace. It only last a short time, barely long enough for their bodies to remember but enough time for their hearts to attach before the connection was cruelly severed and Megan's corporeal form was taken from him in a shimmering flash. He felt her tiny body pulsate in his arms, felt her crying, her tears soaking through his t-shirt and reminding his skin of the feel of his daughter, of the life of his daughter, his muscles ached to keep hold of her as she slid from his embrace and walked to the other side of the room, flinging herself silently against the floor and pouting up at him.

_Not fair._

"I know baby, but still, we got to hug, you got to hug Daddy and he got to hug you back"

_I want more Daddy, Lawrence Mackey gets to hug his Mummy and Daddy all the time, I want to , why can't I? What happened? It's not fair, make it fair Daddy, why am I being punished?_

Thomas felt his heart breaking as she pounded her tiny fists against her head, the only evidence of the movement the gentle swaying of her auburn hair.

They both turned toward the door as they heard steps in the hallway.

Dean motioned for Sam to take the right at the top of the stairs, he took position on the left, they both moved forward with the stealth of trained combat soldiers, guns held down and out, ready to spring into action the second they saw their prey, Sam had the rock salt loaded shotgun, Dean had the bullet loaded .45 , they advanced slowly toward the door to the small, dark room at the back of the house, so far it had been too easy, so far they'd encountered no one. So far only lasted so long.

Megan stood before them, tut tutting and wagging her finger at them.

_You shouldn't be here, you're not allowed_

"Where's your Daddy?" Dean stood his ground , refusing to give in to the shivers that threatened to knock him sideways as they coursed through his skin.

_He's busy, he said I had to tell you to go away, so, go away_

Sam advanced quietly, innocently, kept his weapon to his side until he was close enough and then fired a shot through Megan, even though he knew she was dead, knew she wasn't harmed, could never be harmed physically again , his mind still reeled from the fact he had just shot a little girl with rock salt.

Thomas ran screaming from the room, they had shot his baby, shot his little girl and he had felt the pain as the salt had rendered her small, fragile body into nothing but air, the sudden loss of his connection with her had sent shock waves of pain through his head, threatening to burst through his eyes and consume his being in a fire that only burnt as viciously in the depths of hell.

He ran at Sam, who still held the shotgun aloft, before he had a chance to react Dean barrelled into the man and then fell through the door into the main bedroom, as Dean struggled to pin Thomas beneath him he risked a look to Sam.

"DO IT, NOW SAM, I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I CAN HOLD HIM"

Sam barely hesitated, he ran into the small dark room and in one sweep knocked all the ornaments and vials from the table to the floor, he pulled back the cloth and looked beneath , there, between the sturdy wooden legs of the table, was a glass case, Sam ignored his repulsion and pulled the small box forward, inside Megan stared lifelessly out, seeing nothing but darkness, her eyes a strange grey colour, her skin weathered and twisted, she looked far beyond her young years, the blackened tint to the skin, the greying of her fingers, the small hands clasping a rotting dog to her chest, her clothes, her hair, all taken so soon from life.

Sam refused to allow his thoughts to spill forth, he forced away his mind and acted on training, his muscles remembering what had to be done, the years of drills and instructions allowing him to break the glass, allowed him to ignore the stench of burnt, rotting flesh, he reached into his back pack and emptied the canister of salt into the broken casket, with his other hand he popped the top off of the flammable liquid and poured, one hand with salt, one with the promise of fire.

Dean struggled to keep Thomas under him, but the man was beyond comprehension, beyond realising that it was over, Dean saw the wild look within his eyes and knew it was only a matter of time before he broke his hold and overpowered him, the pain in his back had doubled and he was pretty sure he'd torn not just one stitch, but every stitch. Sam was gonna be pissed at him.

Mindy would be happy though.

Thomas suddenly stopped struggling , looked at Dean and then thrust his hips skyward, knocking the injured man over and onto his back. Dean screamed as the pain in his back became the only thing he was aware of, the only thing he could remember, his vision swam until he felt Thomas straddling him, his hands around his neck, squeezing, tightening, willing the life to leave him. Dean tried to roll first to his left, then to his right, but with every movement Thomas increased the pressure on his neck which sent his back further into the floor which only served to lesson his strength, sap his energy.

Sam's words echoed around his head, his hero complex, he'd offered himself as bait so little brother could end this, was that a hero complex?

I need you, that's what he had said. I need you. Well Sam, I need you too buddy but it looks like I won't get out of this one.

As the blackness began to flow across his vision he heard a familiar voice enter his mind, as his hands went lax around Thomas's wrists he heard Shelley's voice, from far away, but so close, so near.

I want to live.

With one last monumental surge of strength Dean pushed his palms into the floor beneath him and raised his body in a swift, forceful effort, the surprise of the movement knocking Thomas off him enough so that he could swing his leg around to kick the man in his ribs, using the shock of his actions to his advantage, Dean rolled and grabbed the fallen .45 from it's place behind his head where it had fallen in his initial struggle with Thomas. He fired blindly, relieved when he heard the man scream in pain. Struggling to his feet Dean stood over the fallen father. He was holding his stomach, the blood seeping through and down his sides, soaking into the carpet beneath him.

"I'm sorry"

Dean was taken aback by the man's words.

"Really? Cos you didn't seem so sorry when you took Shelley"

"I just wanted to hold her again, hold her and feel her and know she was there"

_Daddy?_

Dean and Thomas simultaneously turned as Megan reappeared into existence, she crawled forward, her young innocent eyes looking at the hole in her father's body.

_Daddy? DADDY YOU'RE HURT!_

"It's ok baby girl, it's ok sweet pea, Daddy's coming to you now"

_You're bleeding, Daddy what happened? Daddy what's happening? Are you leaving me too? _

Megan turned her panicked eyes toward Dean, begging for him to help, begging for him to save her father. He looked away, unable to bear the child's accusing gaze, her pain filled expression, her broken, dead heart.

"Sweetpea, come here, Daddy wants to hold you now, I want to hold you"

Megan crawled toward her father and laid her tiny head on his heart, she almost passed through him, but as the flames from the small room began to dance into the hallway Thomas was able to hold onto his daughter, to run his hands through her hair and down her back, her cries hiccupping against his chest as her tears soaked into his skin, her small fingers entwined around his neck.

Dean was vaguely aware of Sam pulling him away, pushing him down the stairs, out the door and toward the street as the flames danced through the house, their fingers laying claim to the father and daughter forever entwined together, they watched as the house came alive with a redness reminiscent of the sunrises Sam had watched for so many mornings now, the fire alive, eating, breathing, extinguishing the horrors of grief from the house, expelling the spirits before they became trapped within it's hold.

As Sam pushed Dean into the car and pulled away from the house he was aware of the chill in his bones receding, the warmth of the fire warming him from the inside out, he lay back against the seat, the pain from the wounds forgotten as the pain in his heart for Shelley, for Thomas, for Megan and for Layla overwhelmed him and sent him willingly into the open arms of unconsciousness.

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You know how much i love your reviews x


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"So, to recap, to reiterate, to reinforce and restate, do not move from bed once you get home, do not drive, do not walk further than the bathroom, do not lift anything and for the love of god man do not come back with re-opened stitches. Do you understand?"

Dean nodded sheepishly.

Sam grinned.

Mindy melted.

The Doctor sighed and left the brothers alone, this time when he left the room he physically dragged Mindy with him.

"You ok man?"

"Yeah, it's been a hell of a month though"

"I know, but we set them free you know"

"I know, still doesn't make it feel any better though"

"Yeah, well, give it time brother"

Sam stood and helped Dean into his shirt, he smiled when no resistance was met as he knelt to pull his brother's shoes on.

Dean stood slowly, using Sam's arm as leverage, he couldn't look Sam in the eye, not yet. The emotion from the night, from watching Shelley die, from knowing Thomas only wanted the chance to hold his baby daughter one last time, all the worry over Sam, looking for their Dad, almost dying only to be brought back from the brink by a fooled Reverend, all of it was threatening to boil over with one sympathetic look from Sam, one understanding raise of his eyes, a nod of compassion, would only push Dean over the brink, that wasn't going to happen, he was better than that, he was stronger than that, he was his father's son which meant emotion was used only as the fuel to ignite and keep the fire burning, not for breaking down in front of his brother, ignore the need to be held Dean, ignore the need to allow Sam to make it all better, ignore the overwhelming images bombarding your mind. Suck it up soldier, there's a job to do.

Dean sighed again and followed Sam through the halls of the hospital and into the awaiting Impala. He held himself awkwardly in the passenger seat, but as the tears of pain, exhaustion and anguish once again began to threaten to overwhelm, as his damn of sorrow threatened to overflow, Dean leant back in his seat and closed his eyes as the pain washed through him.

Sam watched silently, more aware of his brother's actions than ever before, his fear that Dean would give up, his need to make his brother understand had given him a new resolve, a stronger will than he'd felt in months, gently he wrapped his hand around Dean's neck and with a small force of pressure coaxed his brother to lean forward, away from the seat.

XXXXXXXXXX

The sun rose into the sky, spreading it's wings and defying anyone to ignore the beauty, as the colours began to bleed into the failing night the birds took to the air, stretching forth and flying forward with determination to soar high and proud, to provide for their children, to own the sky above the land, regardless of the humans who attempted to mimic their freedom, but they knew they were more than their earth bound companions, they were more than those at the mercy of gravity, they could reach heights others only dreamed of, they could become so much through such little effort, a symbol of all the things lost, all the things sought, all the hope from the ground taken to the skies to bring the wishes of the few to the ears of the angels, the birds were the carriers of emotion, sending the thoughts into the silence of the space between the earth and eternity, bringing hope to the attention of those who protected, those who watched from above, those who were once lost, now found.

Those like Shelley.

So unsteady in life but so missed in death, ignored in their pain by passers by but held in such high regard by the ones who did look, who did see, who understood .

Sam watched as the dawn chorus took their song to the sky, he took in the sound, allowed his shoulders to relax , as the tree's shook their tiny inhabitants free, as the sun bathed the winged messengers in warmth, the young hunter closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel thankful for everything he had, everything he'd experienced, every person who had touched him, if only for a short while, his Mother, Jess, Shelley. He felt them all so close, with every sunrise he'd watched they seemed to reach down and touch his soul, giving him the strength to face each new day with a strong will.

Dean slept behind him, sprawled on his front, his face held a slight frown, his sleep betraying the pain he was in. For two days now they had stayed inside the room, stayed together but barely spoke. Sam had tried to get Dean to speak but to no avail, big brother was closing his emotions down, Sam had seen this before, had been unable to prevent the locking away of his emotions, the drive away from Nebraska, Dean knowing he was leaving Layla behind to die, he'd simply sighed, given Sam a half smile and set his jaw in a firm determination. Yet his eyes had been the last to hide away the pain, with one glance Sam had known how close Dean had come to breaking. The glimpse had scared him, not the fact that Dean had been almost at breaking point, no, what had scared him was that he knew his brother did that with every emotion he didn't expel on a hunt, he buried it, what scared Sam the most was that eventually, at some point, there would be no more room inside the older man to hold all the pain, hold all the tears, eventually something was going to give, he just prayed it wouldn't be Dean's will. He'd seen that look again in his eyes as they had driven away from the hospital two days prior, as Dean had ground himself into the seat, used the physical pain to chase the emotional anguish away. The only saving grace being that he'd allowed Sam to push him forward, allowed him to help fight his inner demons.

Dean slowly became aware as his body started to awaken, the ache in his back seemed to wake up quicker than his mind, shifting slightly he inhaled as the ache intensified, he felt a hand on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze, then the smell of coffee.

"Easy brother" Sam helped him to roll and sit forward, handing him the steaming beverage, he allowed himself a small laugh as Dean closed his eyes and savoured the refreshing smell.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just that I'm amazed you haven't been put of coffee for life"

"Yeah, well, I trust you to have made sure no one spat in this one, otherwise there'll be hell to pay."

Smiling, Sam dipped his head as he sat at the small table by the bed.

"Maybe we should stay one more day Dean, I don't think you're ready to leave yet."

"Sam we talked about this, it's time to move on, we can't stay here forever and I feel fine now. I need to leave Sam"

Dean met his brother's eyes for the first time in two days, he allowed Sam to see the misting within the green depths, he needed his brother to know that moving on, leaving this town and moving on, was what he needed.

Sam sighed and nodded, he had to admit, he wanted out, the town held memories he'd rather forget, Dean had rested for two days, which was 47 hours more than he thought he would. He smiled and began to pull out the gauze and tape from his bag.

"Dude what are you doing?"

"After you've showered I'm changing the dressings on your back"

"They're fine Sam"

Sam gave Dean the slight head movement, the tensing of his mouth, the pleading look in his eyes that he knew big brother would be powerless to resist.

Dean frowned at the movement, dropped his head and made his way into the bathroom, all the while mumbling about geek brothers and how it would have been nice to have had a sister instead.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean allowed his body to relax as Sam pulled off the gauze from his back, he'd have much preferred Mindy to have done this, to have done this naked in fact, but he guessed having to settle for his little brother tending to his wounds wasn't so bad, although the anticipation was gonna kill him. When he'd walked to the bed to lay out after his shower he knew something was up, Sam had his we-need-to-talk-and-you-need-to-listen face on.

Never a good sign.

He held in a gasp as a piece of gauze was pulled from a previously weeping wound.

"Sorry man"

"It's ok"

Sam poured a small amount of antibiotic lotion onto a cotton ball and applied the cool liquid to his brother's back. He took a deep breath, knowing what he wanted to say but at a loss at how to start.

"Spit it out Dude"

"What?"

"Come on Sam, just say what ever it is that is causing you verbal constipation"

"I'm…….I want you to know…….you have……" Sam paused in his ministrations, Jess had always told him, if there was something that needed saying, if there was something that needed out, he just had to start talking, just allow his thoughts to pour out, she always said too many people over thought their fears instead of just saying them. Silently thanking Jess, Sam opened his mouth and allowed his river of worry to break down the damn.

"I'm worried about your survivors guilt, I'm worried that you'd do anything for anyone regardless of the outcome for yourself, I need you to focus Dean, I need you consider yourself in every plan, not just barrel in, cos it's gonna kill you, remember what you told me when we were in Black Water Ridge? Remember you said we do what we do for the other families, for keeping others alive and safe, well, I need you to be safe too, I need you to make it through and be there for me, Dude I have enough guilt and enough grief over Jessica's death and I don't need to have to worry about your grief and your guilt as well, I can't do it, you're alive for a reason and you need to accept that, you were saved in Nebraska for a reason Dean, you never give up, you hear me? I hate you for giving up when you were sick, you just accepted it, that was it, no options, if I hadn't have been there you would have just stopped fighting and would have waited to die, but you were saved, so stop trying to justify the fact you're alive, we need to kill as many evil sons of bitches as we can and you can't do that if you're dead. And before you say anything, I know you didn't back away from the reaper."

Dean had been listening to his brother's words, had felt them wash over him in a wave of barely contained panic and fear, he'd listened and he'd heard. There wasn't anything he could argue with , he knew that, but he was surprised by Sam's intuition, he knew he'd been throwing himself in harms way, trying to justify the life he'd been given, but the real surprise, the real kicker, was Sam knowing Dean had allowed the reaper to reach him, had even leaned into the touch. All for Layla, for her need to live, for her right to live above all else, yet there had been a part of him that he'd denied, until now, a part that he'd forgotten, until now. There was that trust, that knowledge, that unfailing belief that Sam would come through for him, would get there in time. As Dean had fallen to his knees his only thought had been Sam, he'd come through, he'd save me. For a few seconds it had been all Dean had known. Those thoughts, that hope. When the cold had receded and the reaper had turned his attention from Dean he'd been grateful. The kicker being he'd forgotten that meant Layla would surely die, for a few seconds he'd been so relieved he was alive, but as the assault of the knowledge of Layla's impending death had smacked him full force in the gut his guilt had returned ten fold. Was it really fate that had meant he was to live? Survivors guilt Sam had called it, to Dean it was the thought that he'd allowed someone else to die in order for him to live, whether he had control of the situation or not, that was the fact. When Shelley had looked at him, had pierced his soul with her need to live as Thomas had held her in his power, as she had gasped at him, her desperation to stay breathing breaking through his shock, pushing him to run toward her, her eyes boring into his mind, she'd left a piece of herself behind in his heart, just as Layla had. As her want to live had joined force with Layla's acceptance of her situation, her trust in the path she'd been given to walk, Dean had started to feel lighter, the two women had touched him deeply, both wanting to carry on the fight. He admired Layla but he was in awe of Shelley, she had so many reasons, so many options and opportunities to end it, yet she carried on, struggled forward, continued to look for a reason to stay. Dean had realised his family had been his reason for so long. He'd stuck around for them, for Dad, for Sam, for his mother. If his saving others meant she'd be proud of him then that's what he would do, no one else was going to go through the nightmare his family had gone through.

He sighed heavily and thought of Sam, little brother needed him, that was his purpose, his reason, maybe that's why he'd survived, maybe that's why he was still alive. It didn't take his grief away, but it eased the burden.

Turning his head slightly Dean smiled sadly up at Sam.

"You know we're more alike than I thought"

"Why's that?"

"We're both carrying around more guilt than is our fair share. I know I've been taking chances Sam, and I can't argue with what you've said, but I want you to know I'm trying to make it right, I guess I do feel like I didn't deserve a second chance, but with every family we save, with every evil thing we kill, I think I'm justifying it"

"Dean you don't have to justify it"

"Maybe not, but that's how I feel. I'm sorry I've made you worry so much, but man you have a similar thing going on you know?"

Sam smiled down at his brother and nodded.

"I don't want to die Sam"

Sam kept the relief from the words hidden as he applied more of the antibiotic lotion to his back.

"I know that"

"Really? Cos it seems like you needed to hear me say it, honestly man, I know I do stupid things sometimes, and that's not going to stop, ever, but I don't have a wish to die, not for guilt, not for nothing, well, almost nothing. There's one thing I would die for"

Sam pulled the gauze from the packet and began to press it gently to the gashes on his brother's back.

"What's that?"

"You"

The smile that spread across his little brother's face was contagious, Dean felt his own mouth quirk.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"This is another moment"

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The alerts don't seem to be working so i hope you guys find the next chapter ok!

Again i can't thank you enough for your reviews and encouragement XXX

One more chappy to go, i'm sad this is coming to an end.

So , one last question, who wants to help tend to Dean's wounds?


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The rain came down slowly, coating the ground and the surrounding houses with a thin sheen, causing the illusion of a town in mourning, a town feeling the loss. As the brothers exited the Impala and stood in front of the house the world around them carried on about it's day, cars on the freeway, people at work, at play, children in the street running toward the dry safety of living rooms full of toys just aching to be played with. As the next generation enjoyed the simple act of breathing, Sam nudged Dean and smiled as he took in oxygen. They stood before the house, stood at the gate and allowed the beauty of the garden to warm their hearts.

Each flower had opened, each flower extended it's arms skyward to the falling rain, allowing the moisture to enter and be absorbed, the act so simple yet so vital.

With every drop of rain each flower took a breath and thanked the sky for the gift of life. The colours seemed to stand out in stark contrast to the grey , the clouds overhead hiding the vast blueness of the sky above, stretching for miles in every direction, the promise of a brighter day. Hope.

Dean closed his eyes and lifted his head toward the coming rain.

Hope. The vague ache he'd felt for so long, underneath his grief, his worry, beneath his need to save as many as he could, there had always been hope. He hadn't realised just what that ache had been. But there it was, closer to the surface than ever before.

Shelley had found a reason to live, she'd found a renewed will to experience, to strive for a better life, yet it had been ripped from her at almost the same time she had acknowledged it. Layla had faith, had a belief in the hand she had been dealt, had trusted that her path was the right one. She'd never faltered, never strayed.

Between the two they knew there was a reason for everything, despite the hardship and pain they were forced to endure.

The hope Dean allowed himself to feel, his acknowledgement of it's existence, his realisation that it had been there all along, came from knowing that he had to live and protect and unite his family for those two women, they weren't to know what it felt like to age, but he would, he wanted to, for them. For Sam. For his mother. She wouldn't want him dying before his time, she wouldn't want him to join her until his job was done. Maybe Roy had been right about that one, he did have a job to do.

Sam walked forward into the small garden and waited for Dean to join him, together they knelt in the mud, the rain soaking through the knee's of their jeans as each brother leant forward and began to dig.

As the clouds moved on, making their way across the country, bringing life to the green of the world, their purpose, their reason, the sky began to brighten, the sun pouring through the air and causing the moisture to shimmer through the garden. As Dean placed the small tulip bulbs into the ground, Sam covered and packed the dirt around them, safely cocooning them in the warmth of the earth, ensuring that next spring they would flower, spreading their petals in an open gesture along with the other plants in the garden, ensuring that for one more year, Shelley's garden would grow, would live in her memory, would revel in the appreciative eyes of the passers by who marvelled at the spectacle, unaware of the loss felt by the flowers stretching their love to the birds who carried the message to the angels.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean reached across the table in the diner and stabbed his fork into five of Sam's fries.

"Hey!"

He smiled and showed Sam his mouth, then continued to chew.

"You feel ok bro?"

"I'm ok Sam."

Dean again impaled more of Sam's fries.

"You won't be if you steal anymore, that's my dinner man, if you wanted fries why didn't you ask for them?"

"Because I knew you would, and anyway, I like rice as well and there wasn't enough room on my plate for both"

"Whatever man"

"So what's next?"

"I thought we'd find another town to rest in, then find the next hunt"

"I don't need to rest anymore Sam, come on man, I need to kill something"

"You'd be a psychologists dream, you know that right?"

"Whatever dude, come on what's next?"

"Ok, fine, last night I was checking through some websites and there's a story about a man in Pennsylvania who's wife came back from the dead to try to kill him. The police have written him off but his account sounds pretty genuine"

"Pennsylvania it is then, I'm in the mood for some spirit hunting"

"You love this don't you man"

Sam intercepted another attempt at his fries as he waited for Dean to stop grinning and answer.

"This is what we do Sam, it's what we do do and we do it well."

Dean stopped his raid on Sam's plate and looked at him, a smile spreading across his face.

"What?"

"Dude I said 'do do'"

Sam couldn't help the laughter that escaped, Dean quickly joined him and the two collapsed over their plates as the other patrons glanced at the hysterical brothers before continuing their own dinners.

Once back under control, Sam wiped at the tears that had flowed freely across his cheeks, his face was flushed red and his mouth ached with the grin that refused to dissipate, across from him Dean was faring no better, he was still having trouble controlling his laughter.

They finished their meals and paid, they had a destination to make for and they had each other, as they made their way toward the exit Sam couldn't help but feel that things would be ok as long as he had Dean.

"This is what I missed"

"What man?"

"You and me, just, laughing, you know?"

"Oh god, you have your I-want-to-hug-you-face on, wipe it off before I do it for you"

"Whatever man, it was still a cool moment and you can't take it back"

"Yes I can"

"No you can't"

"Sammy"

"It's Sam"

"SAM!"

"DEAN"

"Oh look, it's those lovely young men, remember them Violet?"

"Oh yes, those two outside Elizabeth Selkca's house"

"She spits in my coffee you know, I'm sure of it"

"Oh definitely does"

"Well young man, are you hear to escort us two fine mature ladies out dancing?"

"Oh yes, you can escort me you handsome devil"

Dean almost leapt away as Violet made a b-line for his butt.

"Sam. Gun. Now"

Sam smirked and stepped aside as Violet hooked her arm through Dean's. His amusement was short lived though as the other women hooked her arm around his waist and let her hand rest against his butt cheek .

Where the hell had he left that gun?

The End.

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This story became very personal to me and I can't thank you all enough for your support, encouragement and reviews, to those who only read, thank you for taking the time, for those that reviewed, thank you so much for letting me know how it was going and what you liked the most. I treasure each word you sent . Much love xxx

Until next time...x


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